Kri seemed an honorable sort in her own way, and it was just bad luck that he ranked low in her book of "deserving of respect". He gave her a humorless smile, flicking his tail again. "I can see that." Wake up, wake up. Mauja blinked, once, and something dark settled in his gaze as it swept across Kri's body. This would not end here. He'd hunt them all, until the end of time - until their veins were dry and hearts stale and the life gone from their eyes. The beginnings of a growl rumbled in his chest.

A mare was shouting about orders and edges - the cliffdrop was a far ways off, though, and with nonchalance he turned to survey his own ragtag army. He cared little for their lack of formation. Let their enemies see that, and underestimate them. Let them see that and grow bold and stupid, and then let them die when Mauja's army robbed them of the right of the first blow. Why wait? The enemy was here, and his kin thirsted for blood.

Korra slid up beside him wordlessly, her eyes on fire, soulless, dark. He stared at her for a moment, wondering where his own rage was hiding.

"Keep away from the dragons and their fire, watch the skies for attacks from above! Let us be like a tidal wave, like a landslide, a wolf pack - merciless, together. One by one they will fall to our combined might!" His horn, glittering coldly in the dying sun, pointed to each of the targets in turn. "The black unicorn mare, the dunskin with a dog, and the painted draft stallion. Let's start with these!

"They think they can take our home, take our land - they think that they have a right to what is ours! Waste no chances, let death come in the wake of your shadows - I would proudly die for all of you, but let us instead paint these lands red with the blood of our enemies!"

Shouting certainly sent your blood pumping. Finally - finally - his heart picked up in rhythm, adrenaline flashing like a flood into his veins. He stood on the spot for a moment, kneading the ashy, familiar terrain with his front hooves. Root, rock and hole - he knew them, the soft moss and brown grass, the long shadows cast between the trees and the breeze smelling of brine and sea gulls.

A deep breath.

A call which sent ravens and crows into the air, cawing and shrieking, darkening the sky.

From the ground in their midst, centered where MIRAGE, TORASIN, VIKRAM and KIARA stood, the ice came without warning. With only a grunt of effort he pulled them from the earth, mind honed from practice, and he could feel the chill of it in his blood - it always came, welcomed in the heat of battle, stronger now that he pulled five from the ground with a single forceful thrust. Skywards they soared, to reach past Mauja's own height, and he did not wait to see if they hit or not - did not wait to see if bodies were impaled on them, red blood running down the cold pillars. The Ice King charged into motion, muscles rippling under his alabaster skin, and his mind let go of the threads of magic. With no protest but a groan the spikes slipped back into the sheath of earth.

So many times had he run across this ground, but never before with such an intent, such a purpose - nor with such a rage, such a dark, ferocious anticipation. Worry was always at the back of the King's mind, a curse he could never escape, but what was the point of worrying when the fight was not yet lost, barely even begun?

The wind touched him with soothing hands, a blanket across his troubled mind. Let them only know the full extent of his love for his herd - and let them know the consequences of challenging that, of forcing his hand in this way.

I will not forgive nor forget.

His sights were set on AARON, the young draft he'd called as target. A heavy sort, painted brown and white, yet not too tall. Mauja towered above him, a marbled statue carved from ice - silent now, but dark of eye as his horn pointed towards the youth's neck.

He felt the ancient power of the ground thrum up through his legs, the soft whisper of wind and shadow.
For all of you - my family.

Their bodies loomed closer, their line a threat to all he held dear. A step from impact, his dark eyes drifted shut, something akin to peace - bliss - across his soft white face.
I want to feel the warmth of your blood run down my face.

And counter-attacks be damned.

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Mauja Frosthjärta