Själ

He was stronger than she was.  Of that, Själ was sure.

Perhaps 'stronger' wasn't really the proper term.  Erebos was just... more.  He was more experienced than she, he'd had more training, he'd had more support as he'd grown into the warrior that challenged her tonight.  When she looked upon his dark, muscled hide and glinting, mischievous eyes, the princess found herself lacking.

If she'd been any other young mare, she might have taken a moment (as she batted her lashes almost flirtatiously at him) to enjoy the view.  He was handsome in a dark, brooding way; and besides that, he was the prince of the Aurora Basin.  Power pooled around him in an almost tangible way.  Had she the mentality of anyone else, she might have imagined what a pairing between the two of them could mean.  The daughter of Psyche the DarkEmpress and the son of Deimos the Reaper?  They would be unstoppable.

But Själ was not any other mare, and though she might acknowledge the appeal of the stallion before her - or, more truthfully, the allure of what he could give her - she would know, deep in her soul, that she would not pursue it.  She would make her own way, create her own name and image.  She would not rely on anyone else to do it for her.

And so it was that their spar began.

A momentary satisfaction took hold as she felt her hooves meet flesh.  In at least some regard, she thought she had managed to surprise him, and it had been his momentary hesitation that had allowed her to hit her mark.  As she cantered away from his left side, a smirk lit her face as she tossed the taunt - "Let's go then." - over her shoulder.  It was in that moment that she realized that moving away from a pitch black stallion in the dead of night with only the light of the aurora borealis to guide her might not have been the smartest move.  She had been able to see him when they had been standing close enough to touch, but now the darkness and his location made it challenging to spot the prince.  Her ears flicked back, picking up the sound of his hoofbeats as he followed her, but she was unable to spot him behind her with her peripheral vision.

Smart, she thought as she pushed herself into a gallop.  The stallion was using the blind spot directly behind her paired with the night's kiss to hide himself, even if he did so unwittingly.  As the mare ran, she twisted her head to the left, trying to get a clearer view of where the stallion was.  Surprise lifted her brows and had her ducking to the right as she realized how close he was.  She had allowed him to get far too close, and as her haunches lowered and her head ducked down, her body slowed (Stupid!) and pivoted to the right at a perpendicular angle to the stallion's trajectory.  The movement allowed him to catch up as she turned, and she felt the sting of his teeth graze across her croup.

Instinctively, she kicked up with her hind legs again.  She had probably recovered too slowly to aim for his head or neck, as his momentum had likely carried him even closer to her as she had turned; she hoped instead to hit his chest or perhaps his right shoulder.  Hell, she would even take a leg if it meant she would get enough time to strategize and recoup.  She just wanted enough time to get out of his range and twirl to face him.

She'd never win if he managed to stay behind her like this.

Her rump stung.  The momentum with which he had approached after she had (idiotically) slowed to try and turn away had ensured that the bite would bruise more than it would bleed (though it would do that, too).  He hadn't really been trying to hurt her, just as she hadn't been trying to hurt him.  Still, there was an innate challenge in their spar, as though the outcome would decide who was more deserving of their similar lineage.

She didn't intend to come out on the bottom.

"Talk."
--Ansgar.--

[2/3. 710 words.]