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It was over.
His body was sore and his sides were heaving from exertion. The stallion hurt, there was no doubt about that, but he knew he had gotten off lucky this time. His tail was probably the worst of all, the tiny bones fractured for sure, so the grullo let it hang lazily behind him. His neck, too, ached and throbbed, but it was not a pain that the hot springs couldn't remedy. This had not been a fight to the death, but it was clear that he had won by the time Tor spoke up. Exhaling a sharp breath, the grullo focused his golden eyes on the mare before him, and every so cautiously took a step or two closer to her. He had no more intentions of attack, and showed so by dropping his head to a degree.
"... I am sorry," he finally spoke up, only loud enough for the paint to hear if anyone else had strayed close to watch the fight. The bloodied hole in her cheek made him cringe, and he could barely bring himself to look at it. He had caused that gaping hole, he had been the one to bring his hooves down upon her. And he couldn't believe it. How could he ever apologise for something like this? Perhaps Tor would think him a fool to be saying he was sorry; after all, couldn't he have stopped in the middle of the fight if he'd wanted to?
A glance was cast to the side, searching for any that had wandered too near, before he focused his gaze back on the draft. It was an intense look, one that he did not let up even as he began to speak. "I'm not sure how, mare, but I will assure you that Mirage leaves here, well and alive, and soon. I can tell you that no harm has been brought to her yet, and if I am able, I will keep it that way."
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