He was as ready as he could be, and in the agonizing moments before the charge he found himself struggling with a fear that grasped for his throat and tried to suck the moisture from the mouth. Breathing deeply Lace looked around, took notice of the position of the sun as it lowered over the sky. It reached the treetops now, and would soon dive down beneath them and lay the battlefield in shadows. Would the fight draw out into the night? He prayed that it would end before that, so that he wouldn't have to battle with poor visibility among trees in a foreign land.

A battle cry tore from the throat of a stallion and rang out across the sparsely forested borderland. It cut through the air like a trumpet and in its wake followed a surge of movement as both sides moved in on each other. Through the eyes of the dragon Lace noticed how the defenders were somewhat quicker to react - they were the first ones to reach an opponent, but soon enough that would change. Soon everyone would be engaged in a fight for survival, for glory and for land, for beliefs and revenge and simply for the fun of it.

Nostrils flared, feet trampled. He felt bodies closing in on him and carry him forward through the allied forces, faster as more and more soldiers became engaged in combat. He didn't resist, only altered his course according to Fajira's instructions to reach a place where he was needed - ready to aid anyone who seemed outnumbered, prepared to take on any opponent. Soon enough, an opportunity arose to aid and with a deep breath and steady grip on his nerves the grullo gathered speed, dug black hooves deep into the soft earth to find traction. Wiry muscles swelled as he thundered forth in a swift but controlled gallop, ducking and veering for the battling figures around him. Honey-colored eyes narrowed upon spotting KORRA aim the sharp antlers toward the side of a young warrior that was already engaged in combat.

Lace picked up the pace, laying all the force and the entire bulk of his healthy body into a leap that carried him forward, intending to slam into the left side of the shorter warrior. She looked sturdy, but he had the force of momentum on his side to make up for it. Where she was broad he was tall, his longer legs gave him better reach - but then there were those antlers, that effectively protected the neck and ears. He would have to watch out for those, stay close to her body and aim for back, withers, flank and legs at the best of his ability.

Hoping that his charge would bring her out of balance or at least distract her enough to forget about the colt, Lace quickly regained his balance and reared, allowing the momentum to carry him to the right and forward so that he ended up right behind her rump - or if she turned, by her side. Blunt ivories bared, the silver knight snapped towards the ragged mare in hope of capturing flesh, scrape through the skin of the dock (or the whithers) of his opponent.

In his mind he felt the dragon seethe and coil, blood-thirsty and eager to join in. He held her back. Not yet, might need you in a better place still. The order was sharp and absentminded, the stallion distracted by the opponent before him and the deafening clamor that was battle. His blood pumped quickly and provided necessary warmth to aid movement, though still the muscles felt cold, the coat dry. He had yet to feel the scorching heat of anger and pain and there were no blood dripping down the metallic hide. Not yet, but soon it would come. Was it a sign of madness, that he longed for it?

[Word Count: 651]