Arrogantly, he comes. A snarl twists the face of the smaller stallion, an impressive height paling beneath a greater one, reminding him of the all-encompassing presence of Maskan so long ago. Now, there is no boiling landscape with which to sweat and bleed upon. The brute is a fool, pausing to stare as he approaches, and Kaj remembers his own stillness when he'd won WingLeader from Maskan. Now, he does not remain motionless. He charges forward, powerful legs stretching across the iced landscape, careful to keep his balance. Tonka eventually does the same, smirking like battle was a game. The child will learn, battle is not something to mock. Kaj will wipe the cheshire grin from his mug, win or lose. Wings tuck close to his body, wary of the horn upon his opponent's head. They charge towards each other, he will not lose a wing to the fool's stickhead. How the massive Andalusian twists his body from a gallop to about-face into a buck is beyond Kaj, but the hind hooves aimed for his neck are far more pressing. Gritting his teeth, Azale's forlorn visage touched his mind and fire flashed in blue irises. Upon his next stride, a canter catching his legs, he waits for the perfect heartbeat right before impact when his forehooves are next off the ground and his weight upon his haunches. It's a tricky move, for he must time it perfectly, and it is certainly a close call as he shoves his body into a new direction to avoid the sharp, thick hooves. To the left he lurches, the bastard's left hind hoof just barely scraping the apex of his right shoulder. It stings solidly, an ache that makes his leg nearly spasm in phantom memories that had given his scar life. On Tonka's left now as the other descends, the child's hooves touch earth once more.

Again he spins to face Kaj, but hw moved to avoid his buck, and they might be more at ninety-degree angles now. High into the sky he reaches, but Kaj hasn't let his wings detach from his sides, especially with how they would unbalance him in his lunge. Sharply he curves to the right to face Tonka at a more head-on angle, eyes flashing as he sees the hooves shine beneath the sole lamp overhead. The wind smacks his face, but his wing- even as close to his belly as it could be- is still at risk. Kaj slips upon the ice in his turn, stumbling slightly as he presses forward as fast as he dares. A rear does not last long, and with the weight the other stallion has- equal to his own mass- he shan't be airborne long. Huffing, Kaj lowered his head as if he were a ram, though no horns grace his crown. They are in such close quarters, it is less than two strides from the younger stallion's form. A strong shoulder aims to ram into Tonka's right side of his belly while his legs are up. Hopefully it will knock him off balance, as well as move the most important bone of Kaj's wing away from those hooves. Head is lowered as far as possible to strengthen his shove as he lunges forward, also to keep it from Tonka's reach. A knock to the head could put him out for good. It's why he doesn't attack head-on when he chooses his angle; Tonka shouldn't be able to swivel easily while up in the air to change his projection. As they shove away, whether Kaj has hit him or not, he quickens his pace and squints into the wind, wishing it didn't disturb his hearing so greatly that he couldn't pinpoint the cur.

Said cur must have turned to his right to approach Kaj's left side, for when the warrior turned to view him he was aiming for his spine and rump with his curved dagger. Icy eyes narrowed; as Tonka nears Kaj gives a crowhop, striking out sharply with his hind legs while he runs, angling massive hooves to try and smack sharply into the brute's thick, intimidating chest. Like hell he's going to let ANY stallion back at his ass after Maskan! If it connects, Tonka's forward movement will be disrupted, so Kaj let the break in stride from his buck slow his gait enough to turn as sharp as he dares with the wind still stinging and the ice still messing up his movements. Under the glow of the singular lamptree he faces Tonka directly as he slides, trying to regain momentum that has reached nothingness as he lunges forward. Wings rise like an avenging angel, lifting him from the earth as he rears up, simultaneously lunging to aim his forehooves straight for the child-snatching bastard's horn and face.

---
Post: 1/4 Attacks
WC: 800 Even