He missed.

That single thought raced through his head like a comet, its trail setting everything ablaze as it went. In its glorious wake Öde was left on fire; everything from his entrails to his bone marrow, burning. His flesh boiled, his hide burnt, and his scream of frustration was a spray of ash and dirt.

"She didn't even notice you," came the raucous laughter of his mother, October, though it was the echo of his humiliation that cast the sound to rattle inside his skull. Here he faced the ultimate test of his talents, of his wit, of his namesake - real or deserved irregardless. Öde had never been truly tested before. The weight of the unknown outcome hung upon him with deadly force, poised to either topple or tower.
"Get her," came the cruel hiss of that all too familiar voice. Öde was happy to oblige, to make her see him, if not worship him, beg him, sacrifice for him.

Wrath spun through the dark limbs that bore the burning man, hooves easily churning the soft terrain of the grassy herd, softening the hard pull of his cut-off charge and subsequent momentum. It roiled through him, needing an outlet, and so Öde grabbed it between his teeth, an audible click to be heard if not for the din of the ensuing war, and turned on his cupped ass to his left, springing forward in pursuit.

As he ran he leveled Dröm in his sights, and he was disgusted with what he saw. Where he was a holy being, crafted in the dead of the night with shade and blood, power and ability. Then there was Dröm, and she seemed... made of nothing remarkable. As brown and plain as the dirt they trod on, and lesser than him in nearly every aspect as far as he could tell. Only her shadow stood a chance of being larger than him, and as his hooves ate the space between them, his speed an asset among many, he couldn't help but feel all he'd need to do is reach out a leg a bit further and just trample her beneath him like the clod she was.

So he did just that.

Öde pushed out a foreleg as he followed after Dröm, likely to be coming from behind while she turned to attack and miss Ciceron. He brought down his left limb hard at her right hind fetlock. He didn't stop there though, his momentum due to take him past her right side, so as he went he cast his left shoulder towards her right flank, hoping to throw her balance and exhaust her breath. He would have reached out to bite her too, but the thought of touching her so intimately disgusted him, so instead Öde settled on throwing out his heels in a buck the more he was due to near her head. Even with his height he likely wouldn't reach that high, but a solid hit to her chest or her front legs would do nicely.

All of it was a fluid, continuous string of attacks, each one sung on the thunder of his rapid hoof beats. The buck consumed most of his pace though, and as those hind hooves landed he bunched his weight on his haunches, shoving off with his front feet to pivot his forehand left, intending to face her. His neck bowed with pride and defense, the triple thread of his horns cast towards where he assumed she would be, ready to strike, ready to take her.

See me now, bitch?

---

A: 1/3
D: 0/1
W: 605/800

@[Dröm]