Despite the annoyance of being invaded, it was a thrilling thing - she had to admit that much, at least. Owe up to her past as a warrior. With a self-important air she inhaled and puffed out her chest, still strutting up and down their line, eying the enemies. So many wings, so many dragons, so many hornless rats... But the ones which made her amber eyes darken the most, were the horned ones who stood there with the rest of the scum, so eager to turn upon their kin. They'd chosen the path of darkness, turned their back upon the glory of their race, and to Alan, they were little more than vermin now. They were disbelievers, weaklings and fools.

Though that bronzed dragon-horse certainly looked strong. Alan paused in her striding, and swallowed. Damn. So many of the flying critters littered the sky, gold, brown, white, the orange light flashing across their scales. She'd been raised as a fighter, unafraid and foolish, but seldom had she had to fight dragons. There'd been none in her homeland.

Arabella, the pretty spotted mare she'd brought home, came up beside her and Alan gave her a roguish grin. Despite her doubts about dragons, this was still a war, a chance to sink the point of her horn into the flesh of a lesser being. It did warrant some sort of excitement, albeit a dark one; with her thick mane in a disarray about her head and that ferocious glint in her amber eyes, Alan looked quite mad. "Ready for this, sweetheart?" she purred in a low voice, for a moment brushing against the mare in a feline fashion. The tension was building in the air, like a climax, drawn out by some invisible wait - until Mauja called out again, orders and words. By now Alan was practically prancing on the spot, muscles taut under scarred skin, mindless, just waiting to be released. Squirming inside her own physical boundaries she wound herself around Arabella, ears flickering and tail lashing. Wait wait wait wait, she repeated like a mantra in her head, until suddenly ice broke from the ground and Mauja's pale body flashed into motion, a streak of white in the corner of her eye.

With a shrill, wordless cry Alan launched herself forward, thick haunches pushing off the soft loam and moss. Her hind hooves nearly slipped on the fog-wet vegetation before she found traction, and with easy grace she charged. Mauja had spoken of targets, but she'd not paid enough attention. Someone had to bash their line open anyway, but she had enough sense of self-preservation to try and avoid the two larger dragons. With madness dancing along the rims of her eyes, an ache in her teeth which demanded blood, Alan flew across the battlefield. Soon the grass would be churned to mud and slick with blood, and the trees would block the sun so no one need get it in their eyes.

She guessed that the Pegasi would take to the skies, and didn't aim for them. Instead, she headed for something dangerously close to Mirage and Vikram. With her exhalation died the war cry, and it was in relative silence, heart pounding in her ears, that she tucked her head. Mere steps from impact she angled slightly right in an attempt to collide with TORASIN, using her left shoulder as a battering ram. It'd hurt, but if she could punch through here, it might cause disorder, chaos- frenzied, adrenaline spiking her blood and her mind nearly ecstatic, she tried to keep her stride with momentum, to avoid falling, and unless something intervened to knock her to the ground, she'd try to charge past Torasin and rake her horn down his left side.
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