Something about the situation was almost hilarious to her, despite the surge of frustration she felt at her own shortcomings. She was rusty like a pail of nails left out in the rain, but at least some kind of luck remained on her side as she skidded and flailed across the slushy ground, churning it to mud under her hooves. She just didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and a hit resonated up her extended leg. Within, she purred, heavy tail flying out to the side to help her balance as she managed to score a second hit - sadly, no crack of bones rewarded her ears, and the euphoria of contact faded into the same dull, almost angry feeling. Was she doomed to feel this morose even when kicking idiots into the dirt? It'd be a sad day, and not even the second impact against Sinuhe's pristine skin could reignite the flare of savage joy she used to feel in battle. What was wrong with her? Was it just because she felt cranky about how fleet of foot the pale bitch was?

Yeah - maybe it was just that, as she somehow hobbled up a step against Alan's side (or elongated in a magical fashion; Alan wouldn't put it past a Helovian horse to know some weird magic) in the same quick fashion as before, her ugly mug leading the new attack. All satisfaction had been drained of this, and in its wake came a kind of fury: it bubbled up like tar from the bottom of her soul as the battle lagged on for longer than it should. It didn't matter that Africa had fallen over in a flurry of feathers and limbs, and that Deimos closed in on her; all that mattered was that this rude numbskull refused to follow her friend into the dirt. And to top it all off, she had a skeleton of titanium or something. Alan knew she'd hit a leg, but it didn't hinder the bitch's speed one bit. Something about it went beyond mere frustration at trespassing, beyond the intoxicating thrill of proving she was the better fighter, and went straight down the lane into fuck this shit.

She didn't care anymore. She just wanted the bitch to fall down and bleed on the snow, stain the white with red running out of her throat; a hellish scream tore out of Alan's maw as she began to spin her haunches left, Sinuhe's jaws pinching the skin below her right ear, but the flat muscle beneath offered no real purchase and as her teeth closed, they simply slid off Alan's skin. The pain sent a spike into her mind, a frenzy; ignoring the groan of her shoulder she lifted her right foreleg, struck out in a pawing motion towards the nearest of Sinuhe's front legs - probably the left, but at this point, she'd given up on trying to gauge her aim as it just went to hell anyway. Maybe a few more hits to her bones would drive the point home and send cracks into them.. try running with a smashed knee-cap, darling. Anger flared in her eyes, malice seeping through her veins as she struck, again, before she caught the bunching of muscles in Sinuhe's lower back, and with a growl Alan threw herself forward. Not again, bitch. She didn't care where the pale mare would aim - she didn't intend to be there, anyway, and as she pushed forward using her hind feet she cursed the muddled ground; the traction was getting lousy and would lessen the force of her blow, but at least her feet didn't slip and leave her sprawling like some incompetent idiot.

Opening her jaws wide Alan tried to lunge to her right of Sinuhe's neck, bringing her slightly broader chest like a battering ram toward the point of her shoulder to try and push her back, or over, or something, anything; with her head past Sinuhe's own, the pale horn pointed harmlessly into the sky. Bunching up her neck Alan opened her jaws fully, and with as much vicious power as she could muster she aimed a bite towards Sinuhe's withers. No one had shed blood yet, but by everything cold and terrible, Alan wanted to taste it now; should she get a grip she'd rip and tear until skin broke, furious at the slighter mare's tenacity. She had come in here like an idiot and pranced like an idiot, and now she'd die like an idiot. Alan would make sure of that.

[ 3/4 :: 763 words. ]