He turned faster than she, his body more stout and muscled and experience granting him the swiftness her madness did not. Her hooves but barely clipped him, a warning instead of a bite.

Her laughter made everything worse. It run like a sickening song in the back of his ears, grating on his senses and his sanity. He grit his teeth even harder, more content to shove his lower jaw of his face than to continue the torture of her giggles while they both melted into heaps of ash. He could not understand this mare, was marginally afraid to understand her better even, but with each swing of their hooves his interest in her grew. Though her dead body would be just as fine a prize, perhaps she was exactly what he needed after all, alive.

Could he contain something like her though? Would she bow, even a little, to the ideals bolstering in his heart? Ricochet was made of fire and dust, and though he often lacked little sense and tact, purpose drove the pull of his trigger. He was beginning to wonder if this mare even had a trigger or if she just fired at random. Guns you could wield, rain you could only shelter from.

Yet perhaps, just perhaps, he could learn a rain dance.

He had not yet another so fierce, so willed, so perfectly equine.

She stormed after him, a tempest in nature rather than beast, even when he charged for her. Guns kept far from their fray now, wary of rain that had sunk deep enough to burn even his coat.

Her hooves clattered on his hind ones, bruising the tender region there. That pain was not even felt under the rivers of fire the acid rain carved into him, his backside now a raw red that had some blisters starting to form. More and more dragon fire seemed more lovely than this.

When he reared she ducked and her shoulder took his blow. She shoved against him, but his haunches held, though they quivered to maintain balance. Stallions were certainly more practiced at the rear than mares. He expected she might charge when her head snaked down, so he slammed forcefully down and let himself lend his forehand onto her body, balanced as much on her as himself now. He meant to hug his neck around hers, teeth still snapping though it was likely they'd only find air at this angle - the sound should be warning enough for her to keep her head safe at least. It was only their closeness that saved him in the end though. Had she more distance to give her shove greater force he would have fallen, but luck as often as skill seemed to matter in this tussles.

Eventually tiring of their pushing war Ricochet lurched to the left, thudding back to the ground hard and solid. He did not linger long near her but stepped to the side, ears flat and teeth bared, hip ready to lash a kick in her side should she be made enough to throw herself back into him.

"You fight like a devil mare!" he shouted at her, his tones still scathing but it was praise he offered. He snorted, shaking the acid from his face as the burn distracted him and threatened his eyes. He could feel it coming down less however and knew if he could hold out just long enough, maybe he could earn some time of sense with this witch. "I'd expect nothing less..."