HEROES MAY DIE

Oh, no, Destrier hadn't missed the thin, bare lines that were scars, stretched out along Smoke's body like artwork on canvas. Each held a story, he was a sure, just like his own, but now was not the time to try and decipher them. They were enough to let him know not to underestimate his opponent, and perhaps for once, he could judge this book by it's cover. She had to be tough, and know how to handle herself properly in battle.

His teeth met skin, but they were unable to grab hold of anything, simply grazing against the mousey hue of the mare's hide. It would leave little damage, if any at all, and silently he cursed himself for such a petty attack. The nicking of her hide had left a numbness in his gums, when his teeth had been pulled against her side, but it was quick to fade. He wasn't surprised in the least that she was able to dodge the brunt of the simple attack, and instead of simply stepping to the side to avoid it, she charged forward herself, executing a similar to his own. It had the same effects, however, grazing his silken hide and leaving more of a lingering sting than anything else.

Gearing his speed down quickly, but never once stopping, Destrier turned to face the mare, who now faced him in nearly the same place he had been standing just moments ago. Their movements were indeed similar to those of a jousters, and really, the outcome of this match would be quite the same as such a tournament.

It reminded him, of course, of his days with Bran. Several times out of the year, the young boy had chosen to particpate in the sport, whether it be for fun, bragging rights, or honor within the village. It was demanding work for both he and Bran, for their armor was heavy and the hits taken were brutal for the young man, but in the end, it had served as a good tool on the battlefield. Bran's aim had increased a great deal, and for Destrier, he'd learned greater concentration and a better understanding of reading one's body movement.

The sound of a dragon's cry from high above was what brought him back to the present, and his dark eyes settled back on the form of Smoke.

It was the tensing of muscles that alerted Destrier of the mare's planned movement, and only a second later did she come charging forth. Considering their close vicinity to one another, he didn't have long to formulate a plan, but within three of the mare's strides, Destrier had turned to face his hindquarters at the her, coiling his hind legs beneath him before kicking out with all the force he deemed appropriate for a spar against his own herdmate. Although he was fighting for a Captain's position, he found it wrong to use all his strength on Smoke, unless she did the same to him.

His newly gained magic burned and flared from deep within his barrel, yearning to be let out, but for the time being he resisted its use.

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE