WE WERE STRONG.
we stayed bright as lightning. we sang loud as thunder.
we moved ever forward.</style>
The brush of feathers against my neck is soft, lingering on my skin for a moment until they slide off, my back hooves darting out to land upon Midas, though with my neck tucked tight across my best and my eyes closed to keep any unwanted feathers to land in them, I miss the exact aim. The gentle strength of my kick does not allow for the shudder I am used to accompanying the movement in short succession, and I slide easily out of the grasp of Midas, as he offers litter resistance to my tactics. Free of his clutches, I sail upward for a few more moments before curving my body, evening my trajectory into a more easy glide, my mind searching for the stallion with a look of annoyance.

The allowance of my body to collide so easily into his does not go unnoticed, and I am frustrated that he would invite me to battle without fervor. I am not the opponent you want to face halfheartedly. The passion of my own heart will consume you.

Whatever the case, my small painted general seems to have been knocked back into reality by my quick attacks, his face shaking off the fog and his golden eyes growing more alert. His lithe build would make him fast in the air, but I felt that my immense training would leave me advantaged still. After all, four years cannot hope to catch up to nine in experience overnight. I watch him for a few moments as he rises, dark gaze steely as it settles before me, ears cocked back and searching through the screech of wind for the sound of his whistling feathers in order to locate him.

More than the whistling is the presence of chill on my back, a shadow, as he soars above me, and I smile. I prepare myself, wings feeling out the air as they curve, preparing for the move that I had used against Azzaron to evade an attack launched from above. As his comes to lay his barrage upon my backside, I begin to curve. My body swings like a wave sideways toward the right, his teeth missing the top-line of my neck and falling instead toward the the left side, well guarded by a thick, blonde mane which whips wildly about in the wind as it rushes over my body. The attack, already kept from violent force, does little more than ruffle a few hairs and pinch the skin for a brief moment before I pull away. His hooves chase after my sinking left wing, brushing the feathers ever so gently, like a kiss from a lover, before they separated, my own body curving upward and over.

I allow this wave of movement, willingly, to carry me up and about, a barrel roll in the sky that brings me farther in altitude until the sparse clouds of the blue sky above are almost close enough to touch. It is when my descent begins from the roll that I try to wind it tight, attempting to achieve a higher altitude than that of Midas. I swoop down, chasing after the tail of my beloved General, trying to hold myself up above him, legs tucked, until we are nearly stacked in the sky. My wings attempt to match his for flight, though the turbulence of each of his flaps tips me a little off balance. We would be head to head, tail to tail, should I be properly aligned, and that is when I push down with my back legs toward his rump gently, my own front end throwing upward to avoid the rise of his own body should I hit my target. I extend my front legs, aiming to have them push upon his broad shoulders if my first attack was a success, my jaws snapping out briefly for his neck.

Let's have some fun.
""

[ WC: 650; 2/3. ]