He is quick to retaliate, however. Those titanic hooves of his could knock her head clean off her shoulders if they land a direct hit on her, and it would be a dreadful shame for the ironheart to meet her maker during a lust-fuelled, 'friendly' spar. Her hooves scrabble for purchase on the ground, which they find fairly easily due to the dry conditions. It's a far cry from her previous fight, her night-time tangle with Mauja, when one errant step would have sent her tumbling. Sparring in such differing conditions is something Nyx forces herself to do regularly, in order to ensure she is prepared for any eventuality. After all, armies aren't usually nice enough to choose dry, windless days to invade.

Using the momentum of the hard ground, the mare shies sharply to her left, away from those gigantic hooves. She feels them whistle past the flesh of her neck, making her grey hair stand on end with the sensation of fast-moving cool air. Pain does not frighten the silver soldier, but she cannot deny feeling a burst of relief that the attack missed. Those hooves could have sent her eyeballs spiralling straight out of their sockets, and how would she admire the pretty menfolk of the world without them?

A wicked smile scoots across her features as he speaks, and she snorts her amusement. Ah, he jokes! "Ooh, you're making me blush like a quivering virgin," she returns, her eyes bright with easy laughter. This is what she was born and bred for. Duelling with a handsome stallion, exchanging wit as sharp as their horns, with sweating bodies and heaving muscles. Touching warm, wet skin in pleasure and pain alike, in the most basic and primal dance of nature. It sends a shiver down her spine, and her eyes turn hooded and dark with wanton desire.

Unfortunately, if she wants to sate that desire, she needs to lose this fight. And a warrior like Nyx can never want to lose a fight...or, at least, not admit to wanting to lose a fight. So she will throw her all into it like she always does, and if she wins she will hold her head high and give thanks for a battle well fought. If she loses...well, she'll consent to ease the pain of Tembovu's broken heart with the succour of her body. Any stallion will find his problems considerably lessened if he is nice and relaxed after a thorough seeing-to.

After her dart to the left to avoid his attack, she continues to circle fully to the left - carefully avoiding the broken tree - to try and bring herself facing his right side in a T-shape. Despite her wicked smile and ardour-darkened eyes, her mind is fully focused on the battle at hand. She's still judging him, ascertaining his size, his favoured attacks, his techniques. From their small exchange of blows, she thinks he will use his size to his advantage where possible, and will try to use those gargantuan hooves to crush and break her. She notes to herself to try and stay close to him, not let him wind up another powerful kick towards her.

She gathers as much momentum as she can from her short run-up, heading at a steady collected canter once again. On his other side is the water, and if he moves out of the way she could end up headfirst in it. She thrusts her chest out and aims to slam it into his right ribcage, which is hopefully still sore from her horn attack. He's like a man mountain, so it's unlikely she will be able to push him over, however she hopes she may be able to make him stumble to his left and maybe fall into the water. A dirty trick? She prefers to think of it as using her environment.

Simultaneously her lips peel from her teeth and she aims a sharp nip for his spine, directly in front of where her chest is aiming for. Her blunt teeth won't draw blood, but she hopes she can create a nice bruise, a stinging rebuke.