She spoke but no words followed from the rough, low speaking man. He simply allowed his child to find shelter beneath a nearby tree. The moment was touching, and Elsa simply watched with a small smile. She watched as he then slipped the small pouch, which was around his neck, also to the ground next to the pup. Elsa’s mind began to wander about what it was, did it hold a type of liquid, or was it some sort of plant (like Oxy’s locoweed!). The thought made her giggle aloud, and she thought about how stupid she must look. Elsa was too excited to care though; maybe she had just discovered another dealer within the herd! Such news would be gossip ripe for the spreading should she find her assumption to be true.

Finally, mystery man in the trench coat decides to turn around. His milky, white eyes seem to be looking at Elsa, but she honestly has no idea. He could be looking next to her, or maybe not even near her, she could never tell from this distance. His tail lashes back and forth, and he seems to transform. The atmosphere begins to feel much like it does during a spar: rough, and to the point. There was never any time for flirting or giggling. Elsa frowned a little, but tensed, as she awaited for his no doubt quick, and painful move. It wasn’t long before he decided to make his move, and she waited with a new, voracious hunger for proving she was stronger than the man in front of her.

A stamp against the ground centered her attention once again, as he crushed the snow beneath his hoof. Maybe it was a metaphor, she was the snow queen, and maybe he was showing her that he can indeed, crush the snow. He suddenly burst forward, and Elsa braced herself, standing her ground. Rosti (she thought that was a clever name she just invented) seemed to being going to her right side, so Elsa turned, and moved to her left. In her attempt to feint, she now provided an open, and exposed right side. He suddenly then veered to the left, catching her slightly off guard. Elsa tried to lunge forward, her muscles bunching in her hindquarters, desperately trying to move from the stallion. She didn’t want to look like she was fleeing, but she without a doubt did not want to take the brunt of the attack.

Thankfully she had been a bit better at moving than she had hoped for, even if Rosti did hit. She felt his horns dully smash into the right side of her hindquarters, pushing painfully against the skin but never breaking it. No doubt, there would be a large, blue bruise that would cover her body; at least it would match her body! She could already feel the blood rushing to the attack point. Adrenaline began to overpower her body, and she thanked the lords that he had not hit her precious ribcage, but rather her muscled, easily healed hindquarters. As she continued moving away, the constant movement brought a sore feeling to her rear, and she groaned. This was already going to be a long, hard fight.

Her lineage, thank the gods, gave her better footing in the cool snow as she turned in a tight circle, moving back towards Rosti. Assuming he had continued in the direction of his attack, Elsa calculated that he should be flashing his right side to her. Elsa’s legs pounded, attempting to pick up speed. She ran straight for Rosti, hoping to push her larger body into his shoulder, to make him trip and injure himself, or- this was a surprise. As she hoped her body rammed into his right shoulder, she desperately began to snap her teeth over his bare, brown back. She wanted to teach him just how feisty women could be, especially when you bruise their merchandise. I mean seriously; you touch it, you buy it right? As she snapped about, she seriously hoped she had hit him; otherwise she’d look like a crazy snapping bird. Not that the look would be a terrible thing, maybe he liked them crazy.

"Talking"
@[Rostislav] || 700 Words || [1/3 attacks]

Elsa