"Boy is scared" the dragon chuckled with rather uncharacteristic glee and puffed herself up even more as she flitted on and off, keeping above the heads of the stallions and well out of reach from snapping teeth. She enjoyed seeing the nervous glances Fiore threw after her, thrived on the unease and respect that was so hard to come by nowadays - after all, companions came thirteen on a dozen here, and very few horses stopped to look twice at a dragon no matter how fierce, impressive or beautiful it was. The little White was determined to make the most of this sudden request to do battle; and then her bonded could snort and roll his eyes as much as he wanted.
"Be gentle with him, the wee lamb" Lace retorted toothily while attempting a tone of stern disapproval. He couldn't quite hide the trace of devilish enjoyment however, no doubt reflected across his face as the tobiano fell into the carousel and begun his own preparations - it startled the old rover that he would enjoy this as much as he did, and for a second he wondered fearfully whether there were traces of the old madness left within his mind... Then he pushed the thought aside and simply reveled in the moment, focusing on the feel of woodland ground beneath his feet as he cantered forth. Round and around it went in a wide circle, tension building up inside like a bubbling fountain, he could feel the senses awakening to the aging morn; the scent of moss and trees and fern and fungi mixed with that of sweat and the sulphuric tang of the dragon's breath, and he could have laughed out loud in pure joy of being alive.
Suddenly the rhythm of Fiore's footsteps changed, growing more rapid. Lace drew in a sharp breath and followed his path with his own eyes as well as from the elevated position of the dragoness, judging the angle of approach while calculating the predicted force and velocity of impact; their builds were roughly equal, their strength similar and the greatest difference lay in experience, accumulated memories and reflexes honed over years and years of battle. Knowing how to avoid being knocked off balance the tree-marked equine increased his own pace in a sudden burst of speed, and at the very last moment before impact he dug his hooves deep into the ground and heaved himself aside, barely a full pace to the right; but it was enough to evade the onslaught of bulk and teeth.
Suppressing a grin so as not to give away more hints about his state of mind than was absolutely necessary, he caught his weight on the front hooves and allowed the rump to swing around towards the left. With a sharp, strong kick of both hind legs he hoped to hit the young sergeant on the left side barrel or flank, aiming for places with plenty of muscle and bulk to ensure that he would leave only with bruises and nothing more - it wouldn't do to seriously harm such a valuable member of his beloved Qian. Fajira was less benevolent however; from her position high in the air she followed the charge of the destriers with critical eyes, waiting for a moment to strike. When Lace attacked she swooped down just low enough to remain out of reach and opened her maw to let loose a jet stream of blazing red-hot flames against the other horse's head; just slightly ahead of him, so that if he tried to continue forward in an attempt to avoid the attack, he would find himself showered in searing fire hot enough to melt rock.
"I thought I told you to be gentle" Lace communicated critically, their conversation lighting fast and almost wordless, barely more than rapid exchanges of imagery and emotion. "I am! the dragon cackled viciously in return, shimmering white wings blurring as she rushed back up into the sky once more, to continue her distracting dance of loops and swerves.
WC: 671
PC: [1/3]
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