HEROES MAY DIE
Everything was happening in one big, rushed blur. He was lashing out for the mare's striped back, anticipating the blow of his hooves colliding with her back, her barrel, anything; but it never came, much to Destrier's surprise. She had moved away, quite an incredible feat considering the intensity of his magic, as if it had hardly even effected her. Her smoke had taken him by more surprise. But whether it was just because of his lack of experience with magic, or the sheer density of the smoke, he was unsure.

Still upon his haunches, he was already planning his next attack, but it seemed Smoke's little friend had something else in mind.

It was the sound of wings catching themselves on the air that alerted the Friesian of the dragon's arrival, and there was no denying what was about to happen when he heard the sound of it inhaling. Reacting quickly, thankful he had already begun his descent to the ground, Destrier performed a rollback of his own as soon as his hooves had stricken the ground. The maneuver simply turned his front end away from the flame, if only to protect his face, but he wasn't left unscathed. The flame licked his broad shoulder, the mere heat of it enough to reach around his pectorals and singe the hairs there. The most central area where the flame had hit left a fairly large spot of barren black skin, perhaps about the size of two of his own hooves.

The Friesian let loose a squeal of pain as the flames melded into his skin, presenting their burn, threatening to spread. Destrier threw his head about, and gave a buck, but when his weight came crashing down on his forelegs, he instantly regretted it. His actions had been instinctual, but they had been enough to cause a surge of pain to shoot through him, an incredible, pulsating tingle throughout the majority of his right shoulder.

"You must focus, Destrier," a voice from within his head spoke. It was not his, however, instead holding a tone that was eerily similar to Bran's. The elven warrior's voice was calm and yet firm, just the way it had always been whenever the Friesian happened to become shaken in the midst of battle. A fearless warrior they both were, but they were still mortals, susceptible to moments of weakness and all the emotions in the world. Oh, how he wished the young man was here, cheering him on... Perhaps he was, though, looking down upon him from the Heavens with that familiar fire in his eyes and that childish, lopsided grin on his face.

His eyes met Smoke again, and this time, they held not the warmth of a friend, but the dangerous fire of a warrior. It was no surprise that she stood so far away, yet again and without fail. It was becoming an annoying tactic, if he could have said so himself; was she afraid to lock herself in real combat with him? More than likely, she was simply using their great size difference to her advantage. She was quicker upon her feet, as she'd shown him more than once already, but a real warrior was able to adapt to these kinds of things.

Without another moment to waste, Destrier pushed himself into another gallop, eyes glued to the form of the grullo as he moved. With each stride he found his shoulder crying in pain, begging to be put to rest, ready for this fight to end. The distance between the two contenders was not great, however, so he pressed on, hoping that the damage done to his shoulder was not enough to put him at the very bottom of this tournament.

He was anticipating her to parry to the side, and so halfway to her, the warrior put his war stomp to use. A dark, rounded hoof thrummed

against the ground just before he gathered all four legs beneath himself, and in that instant the magic was released, causing a quake in the ground beneath Smoke. Hopefully, she would be sent off balance enough to disable her from fully preparing herself to dodge his oncoming form.

The Friesian drew nearer and nearer to the mare, his plan clear and simple. He wasn't planning to move at the last second, or come to a halt just in time. If he was able, he would slam right into the grullo's left with his own, and send her to the ground if he was able.


Word Count - 757
4/4 attack, 2/2 magic

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE