She didn't move fast enough to avoid the oncoming horn, but neither did she perish beneath it's might. It brought a strange sensation of both victory and defeat, and it left Öde with a craving to vanquish her in the dust, to eradicate that wavering sensation of failure beneath the overwhelming presence of success. He only understood the promise of his ascension to the throne and beyond - anything else was improbable to him. He had never done anything to have ever encountered the bitterness of complete failure. When Lena denied him of her teats he felt the sting of it then, and he knew the absence of greatness when he stood beside a horse which was bonded to a companion, but he had never truly applied himself to a task and lost.

He didn't even think he could. Not even death won over him.

Smiling, Öde embraced the enraged roar that she delivered in the wake of her ruination. That her spittle flecked his coat dis not phase the dark prince in the gritty moment of war. Still, Öde was little more than a child in a game intended for those much older, much more polished than he. He should have been playing at it in his youth, but he'd whittled it all away in the shadows instead. Now he had the height of his age, the strength of his years, the ignorance of his existence, and the dull tapping of his balls against his inner thighs; each strike a testosterone laced blade sunken into his veins, fueling him forward with stupid aggression and bravado. He lingered too long beside his cat, reveling in the glow of half-wins. She rose in a wave of fur and fury, her claws reaching for the folds of his flank as Öde drove first into, and then past her. The crimson wash of his eye flicked to the corner of his skull to watch her, and in that moment he saw the swift retribution she intended to deliver.

Snorting, head tossed back and forth with energy and outrage that she might touch him, Öde fires out a low kick from his left hind leg. The swing of his head had been low, perfectly balancing his shift in weight, and the firm ground holds him steady even with his momentum. Yet, his speed, his motion, his delay in response all keep the kick short and weak compared to what he could manage. It would hopefully be enough to deter her pursuit, would probably connect with her body since it was so low and so close, but it was not enough to keep her at bay. In fact, he might have helped her tiny swords find purchase in his flesh, his motion jarring them further down the length of his left haunch, albeit the taut muscle and swift kick also helped keep it shallow.

The wet feeling of blood tickled his flesh as his leg retracted back beneath him, propelling him forward with a flare of fire and a weaker support than before. She had drawn four red lines from his left hip to his stifle, opening up the casing of his black hide to reveal the red that laid beneath. It would not be enough to truly affect him, much more surface based than it seemed, but even so it infuriated him. How could she make him BLEED. "FUCK HER!" his mother screeched in the back of his mind, her raucous cries like a crow echoing the alarm throughout all of his body. "SHE SHOULD NOT DEFILE A KING!"

Öde turned suddenly and sharply, guided by the retribution he and his mother sought. His haunches tucked into the melted tundra, sliding faintly, but held by the thawed soil. He turned into his right side, giving his left the break it needed, even if it would have been faster to turn upon it to return to the cat. His fore hooves shoved on the ground, spinning him in a roll back, as he about faced. He poised in mid-air for a moment as his energy churned within him, knees tucked and toes off the ground while his ass rippled with muscle (and pain). He bellowed out his own roar of defiance and blood lust. He landed with his neck bowed, horns aimed for her striped right side, or whatever of her was still nearest after his abrupt flip of direction. He charged after her, head sweeping up in a foolish attempt to lift her with his rack and toss her behind him. Although he was not actually capable of doing that, he was sure as fuck going to try, and at the very least he might eviscerate her.

A: 2/3
D: 0/1
W: 790

@[Saffron]
please do not tag me!