During the invasion of the Foothills earlier that season, Gaucho had squared off against a flying paint, who had been his only opponent to land an actual attack during the entire battle. While his shoulder had healed without any complications, and the invasion had been successful and swift, Gaucho still realized that he had much more training to do. Although he had represented the Throat well, had circumstances been different, well....The warrior knew that his skills could always be improved upon. Since his last spar with Aryel, that afternoon in the rain, Gaucho had sparred with anyone who would face him. His strength and agility had greatly increased, as had his use of the antlers which he now wore proudly on his forehead, and the collar of sharpened bone around his neck. Still, he recalled how swift Aryel’s slender and delicate body had been during their last spar, and new that once again, that would likely be her greatest advantage.

Gliding high over the Throat, Gaucho herd Aryel’s cry ringing out across the light breeze that billowed around him. He was happy to oblige her request at a re-match, especially since she had seemed so off during the invasion. It was as if her heart wasn’t in attacking the Foothills; a completely foreign concept to a warrior such as Gaucho. But she had been there, gotten in an attack or two, so he supposed she did all that Kri asked. Alas, such things were far too complicated for Gaucho’s simple mind to understand anyways.

Emotionless as always, Gaucho veered his body towards the plateau upon which she stood, allowing the breeze to push him her way. Mentally, he informed Mara that she would not be participating in this spar. The snake hissed at Gaucho, but complied by winding herself tightly around the base of his antlers and out of the way - for up in the air, there was no other place she could go. Still, the dry heat of the Throat made Mara’s reptilian body all the more agile, and she was not at all pleased that she would be decorative for this round.

About 30 feet in the air now, Gaucho began to swiftly and silently descend. He had been used to fighting creatures much bigger than Aryel as of late, and mentally he checked himself, to remind him that this was only a spar, and that he should try to avoid hurting his sar-gent. Tucking his wings to his sides and aided by the breeze, Gaucho shot towards Aryel from behind, currently on her right. He was sure that she would likely move away, or at least turn to face him, but that was alright; he wasn’t planning on landing on her. He kept his steely blue-gray gaze trained on her, ready to adjust his descent for whatever move she might make.

Mere feet from hitting the dusty terrain about 5 feet behind her, he angled himself so that he would try to land more perpendicular, at about a 45 degree angle, hopefully out of the way should she be foolish enough to buck at his immense body speeding towards her. Should she take to the air to avoid his attack, his intentions would be replicated there as well. Spreading his massive wings to slow his descent, his hooves struck the dusty ground hard; his legs carrying his momentum forward in a gallop. Having landed on what was Aryel’s right, lest she moved, Gaucho tucked his chin to his chest, angling his antlers down and to the left. Covering the ground easily, Gaucho threw his weight to the left once he judged he had passed her flank and would be more likely to hit her shoulder - he did not want his sharpened bone-collar to gauge into her flank for fear of puncturing something. Nose already to the left, he attempted to knock into her neck as he passed, with his antlers.

After he gauged his hind-end had passed her shoulder, the bay veered sharply to the right, bucking out behind him, aiming for her chest lest she try to immediately charge after him.

[WC: 696 Attack 1/3]