HEROES MAY DIE

For some time, he wonders if his question will remain unanswered. He see's not one other soul here in the meadow, which is a surprise in itself for such a beautiful, mild day. The birds are chirping out their songs, bringing promise of a gentle remainder of the evening. It was soothing to just stand there and listen, but then, he hears the tell-tale sound of another; the thrum of wings too large to be a bird alerts him to just what it was, and as the sound quickly grows louder, he grew tense and bolted forward a few strides to avoid her stoop. Then, whirling on his hind hocks, he turned to face his adversary and began to size her up.

She is smaller than he, though she is not exactly short. Her body is filled out, he notices, so it is no filly he is facing. Lighter than himself, she has the upperhand when it comes to speed, and could just as well fly away from his attacks if she so pleased. His own frame, bulkier and overall more heavy, gave him a bonus of power. He wondered briefly just how experienced the pale colored mare is when it came to fighting, but Destrier had to remind himself that this wasn't a real fight; it is a spar, even if the mare didn't vocally speak up to accept his invite. Had she meant him real harm, she wouldn't have allowed this short moment of silence between them.

But almost as quickly as the thought entered his mind, the mare launches herself at him, rising onto her haunches and buffetting him with her wings. He had only ever fought other equines and the ocassional unicorn, as well as iron-clad warriors rushing at him from enemy lines. It was a sort of distraction he was unused to, and while he rose onto his own hindlegs in time to avoid the majority of her battering kneecaps, he was smacked roughly on the end of his muzzle by one. It sent a flare of pain through him in which he jerked his head back for a moment, but knowing it was not detrimental, he focused on his own attack.

He does his best not to recall upon memories of those great battles he has seen, for he needs to remember to keep his blows soft and harmless for the most part. Small cuts, a bit of hair missing from a bite, and a bruise or two were the severity in which he wished to deal today. Still upon his haunches and rather close to the mare, he reaches out with his neck to nip at her cheekbone, before dropping down to all fours. He is quick to back off, and with a flick of his tail picks up into a trot, moving around to her side to stage another attack, or prepare for another offense.

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Attack - 1/2
Summary - Destrier is hit in the nose by Svetlana's knee; nips at her cheekbone in attack.

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE