Fast and sharp, it was the sound of our breathing, escaping in tight little hisses between flared nostrils; beads of perspiration slide down my face and across markings upon either cheek. Out the corner of my eye I caught sight of her left rear quarter muscle quiver, a minor signal that Elsa was ever aware of my attempt to slash teeth against the soft skin of her gaskin. Those alabaster limbs thrash out, throwing off my aim when I reflexively jerked crown away. Jaws snapped close with an irritated ‘click’, my gums burned, flustered by anticipation and an obvious missed opportunity.

Left wing had managed to push against the solid bulk of her barrel, the lanky lass lost her balance and cried out, retreating to nurse some unseen injury I caused – her sudden vocalization was surprising enough for both ears to fall flat against crown in confusion. I hadn’t meant to cause real damage to my Mason; whatever brief triumph might have come from skillfully dodging or applying my skillset was tainted with slight concern. Was I being too harsh?

I retreated three large steps in reverse, trying to put distance between us; crown shifted to its normal height with gaze searching for signs of surrender and omission. They watched Elsa with an almost bemused expression. It quickly became apparent that she wasn’t so wounded after all, at least not to the point of stopping this fray; pained cry turned into an almost predatory snarl, the flesh along my spine flinched, trembling.

The snow princess came at me again, stepping for my right; pearl colored neck snaking, aiming for some part of my body that I wouldn’t allow said girl to reach. When the warmth of that sweaty frame was drawing to close for comfort, the full weight of this bulk slide back on hunches and I carried this body into a standing rear. An animalistic grunt escaped by pressing past the folds of my throat. Once balanced, painted forelimbs had the freedom to kick in and out, I purposely extended them high and coiled low, trying to bat against her skull with one or both blunted hoof. My neck curled tightly right, carrying crown aggressively toward the warm matting of mane which was slung across both junctions of muscled cords; ebony jaws slide apart so Elsa could see the ivories.

Pale pinons unfurled, both feathered appendages thrusting outward on either side of my barrel. I swept at the dirty ground, the tips of my sunkissed hollows kicking up dust that spun around our heels – perhaps it would create enough of a cloud to interfere with her vision, perhaps not.

OCC:

Word count: 440

Attack: (3/3)