The Hunted [Open!]

[Ehetere]

It seemed his insults were getting to more than just the mare he had directed them at. Of course, he had also called the roan fat, but Lark felt he was simply stating facts. By anyone’s standards, the roan stallion was far from it, but the steel grey’s foul temper and vindictive personality saw it otherwise.

He threw a rather wry glance at the indignant looking roan, were he human he would have raised an eyebrow. Lark still saw the older stallion as inferior, and his sense of chivalry only served to anger the grey more. Brilliant, his brother’s worthless morals had infected another horse’s mind. “Why don’t you and your fat mare both stay out of this?” he retorted, returning the roan’s glare with ferocious intensity. “Now if you don’t mind, move your mountain of a rump and I’ll take my filly and go.” Were it not for the overly large mare in his way, he had half a mind to just go and chase the senseless filly down the hillside. He was confident the heavy stallion would have no hope of keeping up.

Growing impatient of the whole scene, Lark leaped at the steadfast roan, using his height and strength and speed to attempt to topple the burly creature. The steel grey was hardly a light creature himself, with more than ample muscle on his otherwise fairly lithe frame. He was big and strong and powerful - looking like a horse of far more than three years. Whether this would help him against yet another older opponent remained to be seen.

OOC: I assume the two boys can duke it out while the two mares watch on from here?

[Li<3]

The roan snorted and stood his ground. He would not let the other stallion pass him to the filly. As the younger male came barreling down the incline, Pallarang braced himself. He was larger, but the grey was no pony and it would take a good amount of strength to face him. As the stallion came toward him, Pallarang dug his hooves in among the stones. Lark's weight smashed into the bay roans shoulder and Pal whinnied angrily. That would definitely leave a bruise and probably a light limp for a few days.

He looked back at the mares quickly. He snorted and pushed against Lark, trying to shove him back so that Pallarang could advance and make the space between the mares and the two opponents more acceptable. With a bright flash of teeth, Pallarang reached for the grey's neck, grabbing what he could in a deep bite. He then reared up and tried to hook his front legs on the other stallions back, to force his weight onto him and force him down.

Rage continued to fill his chest, but he tried to force it down. He had to keep his mind. He had to keep calm and collected. He couldn't lose himself or he could lose this fight. He took deep breaths and snorted angrily, like his father had taught him, trying to keep his cool. He couldn't let the grey get around him.

[Ehetere]

Hitting the heavy stallion was like hitting a boulder, as Lark might have predicted. The heavy horse surely carried some weight on him, and though the impact seemed to budge him a little a ding dong all out slug match was clearly not going to win him this.

He squealed with anger as the roan caught a hold of his neck, pinching the skin and threatening to rip. The heavy horse came down on his back, resulting in his knees almost buckling. He needed to change his approach and fast. Quickly, he slid away from the other stallion’s weight offering a flying buck in his direction as he did so. Where normally his strength and bulk would be the strong points of his fighting ability, but up here he would begrudgingly need to adopt his brothers oh-so-irritating fighting style if he didn’t want to get absolutely pummeled.

Testing the ground beneath his hooves Lark made some quick observations of his surroundings while the roan seemingly had to catch his breath. That’d teach him to eat so much snowgrass. While Piringa was swift and lithe and agile, the lighter grey hadn’t learnt his mother’s lessons like Lark had, and he knew if he could memorize where he could and couldn’t put his hooves it would mean he could dodge and duck and weave like a much lighter horse.

Launching himself back into battle before he let the bigger horse regain too much of his energy, Lark continued to calculate how he might defeat this opponent. The larger horse might tire much faster than he if he could keep the fight moving, use the brute’s weight against him! Lark however was not Piringa, and could not duck and dodge and weave quite as fast, receiving a few stunning blows and a slashing gash on his hind leg which was oozing warm blood. If only the roan would tire, exhausted by his own weight!

[Li<3]

The younger stallion was caught under his weight. The roan bit down on the skin he held and pushed all his weight on the grey, but he quickly ducked out from under him. Pallarang staggered to gain his balance and pulled his head out of the way just in time to miss the stallions buck which would have left him with a broken jaw. The speckled bay snorted and took another deep breath. He might be larger and older than the other stallion, but he was still young and would not tire easily.

He still still and strong as a mountain, and immovable force. It was easy enough. The grey kept coming up and ducking away. Pallarang reared and struck out at the grey a few times. Some hits landing on their target, others not. He was able to get a good bite into his hind legs and he knew that would hurt the grey. Of course he had not been left unscathed. His shoulders were covered with small nicks from Lark's teeth and he had an unsightly rip in his lip that extended from just below his nostril from a well times kick and his jaw ached. He snorted and took another breath, he was beginning to tire, but the other stallion was faltering as well.

Pallarang snorted. If he could use the grey's anger against himself, he could end this fight. After a few more duck and run blows, the roan stood tall and glared at the grey. "Coward," he said menacingly. Hopefully that would topple him over the edge and send him racing toward Pallarang for a real fight. And that was where the older stallion would win.

[Ehetere]

Lark bared his teeth at the stallion for his jibes. He was no coward! Here he was fighting for some useless filly whom he knew full well would probably never speak a word for the rest of her miserable life against an older heavier stallion on the edge of a mountain. Coward, he thought not. “Wombat ass!” he retorted with a sneer, making a pointed glance at the roan’s rump. “Roll away now while you still have the chance.”

He was maintaining a cool head. Mostly. He’d been in more than enough fights to know that true anger never got you anywhere unless it was your opponent who was in a rage. And if Lark was good at one thing it was insulting and angering even the most level headed horses.

Mentally compiling a barrage of pointed slurs and slights, Lark made to circle up around the heavy stallion so he might have the high ground and therefore the advantage. He was trying to be stealthy about it, crossing his hind legs over one another as the advanced. However, he had not remembered the terrain quite as well as he had thought, whether from a lapse in concentration or from one of the brilliant ringing blows he had sustained to his head.

His left real leg slid between two unstable rocks, jarring the join, ripping at the skin and pounding the bone. Panic immediately gripped his mind, eyes rolling back in his skull in both fear and pain. Horses who slipped and fell down holes and broke their legs were dead on their feet, left to die and be ripped apart by dingoes. Quickly he shifted the weight off the injured leg and attempted to pull it out hastily, only damaging it more. But try and try though he might, it was well and truly wedged above the joint, and he was unable to move.

[Li<3]

"Wombat ass, how original," Pallarang sneered. He wasn't heated by the stallions word and watched as he began to move. Pallarang held his ground and watched, then something happened. The grey slipped, his hind leg gripped between two stones. Oh what wonderful luck. Pallarang moved forward slowly, glaring at the stallion tensely.

The sound of his father's voice rang in his ears and the roan was flooded with memories. Play fighting with his father, finding safety in a blizzard, grazing peacefully under his mothers watchful eye. Then one memory stood out among the others. A peaceful night, a full moon shining over head, a young roan colt chasing after a young chestnut. His little family unit normally followed closely to the king's herd and the chestnut colt was the perfect friend to play with. They were both laughing and play fighting, when the chestnut slipped and landed hard on the ground. Pallarang reared over him, ready to win the fight when his fathers stern voice rang out to him. The large bay stallion charged over and sent the other colt home. He wasn't happy and Pallarang could tell. That night his father told him never to fight someone who couldn't fight back, and since then he hadn't.

The roan stopped before Lark and glared at him hard. He then half reared and struck his shoulder, just so that he wouldn't be able to fight back. Pallarang then glared at the grey again and walked behind him. He pawed the stones that held the stallion free and walked back between him and the mares. "Even a stallion like you does not deserve a death like that," he said darkly. "Leave before I change my mind."

[Ehetere]

The roan came over, and Lark returned his glare with one of his own, unable to mask the fear and pain in his eyes. This was perhaps the state of complete mindlessness the stallion had been trying to ignite, but Lark in true form refused to go down without a fight. He snapped and lashed out violently, wildly, with reckless abandon in hopes of deterring his oncoming fate. The roan soon put a stop to it though, coming down hard on his shoulder, unbalancing him and forcing him to his knees. Oh the shame and embarrassment of it all. The grey struggled to try and find his feet again, ignoring the protests from his legs and joints and shoulder, all crying out for a reprieve. He would not die lying on the ground.

With Lark still pushing his body to obey his commands, the roan walked behind him and Lark whipped his head around, baring his teeth in warning with signs of desperation and madness playing about his dark eyes. Here was a horse who fully thought himself on the brink of death, filled with fight and yet unable to do anything to halt his fate. Then a surprising thing happened. Instead of coming crashing down on his spine like Lark thought he might have, the roan began to kick and paw at the rocks trapping his leg. They jolted and moved, causing Lark to scream in indignation and mostly agony. Why continue this humiliation? Why did this stallion insist on torturing and taunting him like this?

And then his leg was free, the pressure gone. He was stunned, completely immovable like stone for a moment while he processed what had happened. It made no sense in his mind, he was not a horse of the same morals as the roan. He would never have shown the same mercy. But it was not his choice to make, and he was up in a flash, tearing away back down the rocky slope fueled by adrenaline and the strange strength that sometimes follows near death experiences. Even so, the weight of his injuries was heavy, and he paused some distance away from the group of horses, sending a wild cry back at them. That call was a promise; he would return, and exact his revenge. The filly would be his, and he would teach the stallion the true price of mercy.

But now he was but a broken shell, covered in dozens of cuts and bruises and other unknown injuries. His legs throbbed, his right hind hock especially. Glancing back, he saw that already a pool of blood had collected from the slashes and gashes that had been inflicted by the rocks. He could not be sure that nothing was broken. So he limped back down the brumby track, back to whence he had come to nurse his wounds, his pride and a growing dark cloud fueled with thoughts of retribution, revenge and hate. One day. One day his time would come. And then he would show the whole High Country how sorry they truly were for slighting him at every turn.

[Li<3]

Pallarang snorted and watched as his opponent ran off. The mountain always beat the storm and it always would. The roan stood there in silent sentry when the throbbing of injuries came to his body as the adrenaline left his bloodstream. The stallion turned toward the mares and limped toward them proudly.

A bruised shoulder with numerous small, bleeding slashes along his shoulders and neck. A rip in his lip below his left nostril and a few bruised ribs. He wasn't in horrible condition. Better then the grey. Pallarang kept a good distance from the mares and eyed the frightened filly before turning to the blue roan mare.

"Will her leg be alright?" he asked in a soft, reassuring voice. The metallic taste of blood ran into his mouth and he coughed slightly. Being a herbivore he didn't exactly enjoy the taste. Pallarang looked over the filly once more. "Try and calm her down. I'll help if I can. Then I'll get you two out of the Ramsheads to where she can get that leg better," he said gently. He was trying his best not to make any sudden movements or loud noises this close to the frightened filly.

It was true that the filly was beautiful, and the smell of her heat was incredibly intoxicating. But even if he wanted to, he was too hurt and tired to do anything about it. "I'm Pallarang, by the way," he said and nickered gently.

[Tiggs]

During the fight, Eumina screaming. No sound ever left her lips, but inside she shied at every kick, squealed at every collision and called out in agony when teeth met hide. She hated it; all she could hear was the pounding of hooves on flesh, all she could smell was the blood and all she could see was two monsters ripping into each other so one of them would win her and hurt her too.

She wanted to run so badly. Neither of them would notice, she could slip away and hide in another crevice. The stallions were too huge to follow her through the roo tracks. But what if her leg was worse than she thought? What if she climbed in and couldn’t get out? She shivered at the idea, her skinny red hide quivering against the blue roan of her protector.

Of course, Ekala was here... She had saved her from the dark stallion before. She should be safe with Ekala. But what if the stallions would capture her too!? They would both be taken, and it would be all her fault! Guilt ridden, the filly still could not find the courage to move. She watched helplessly as the stallions shed the blood of one another, painting the whole Ramshead with it. She had never seen so much blood!

Then suddenly the flurry of movement stopped, and the first stallion was standing over the darker beast. He had won. Eumina could only be relived in the tiniest amount. The roaned stallion had chased away her dark tormentor, just as Ekala had done. But now that left him with her, and there were no more distractions, no more battles to win before he could turn on her.

Closing her sky blue eyes, she waited for the nipping and shoving to come. Colts and stallions liked to do that, to push mares around. Eumina might have whimpered if she had a voice. What if he pushed her down the mountain! She pinned her ears back as he spoke, not out of anger but just to try and lock out his deceptively warm tones.

The cold voice of the beaten stallion came to her, squeezing her heart and sending her into a fresh full-body shake. His words were so icy in comparison to the winner’s. But Eumina knew, heat could burn just as ice could freeze. The dark stallion would be back, and next time fire might not melt him away.

[E!]

The fight bore well for the kinder looking roan, and Ekala found herself watching with a stern look, half mixed with a pleased expression. She had never been one that enjoyed the gore of fighting, but that young stallion needed a beating. However, the look in his eyes as he was defeated and driven away gave Ekala the chills.. they had made a bad enemy today, a very bad enemy indeed. Her attention, as always, went back to her foster daughter. Her red hide was covered with sweat and fear, her trembling constant and the blood on her scraped leg filling the air with a coppery scent. Ekala's soft nose snuffed all over the red filly, trying to calm her by nibbling the dried sweat off her shoulder.

The bay roan turned to them, his voice concerned and kind. Ekala looked to him gratefully, her wide brown eyes blinking in thanks as she spoke in return. "Her leg will be fine, it is but a scrape." She had no explanation that seemed to fit for the fillies uncontrollable fear, so Ekala left that topic alone - if the big bay roan turned out to be as kind as he seemed, and as strong, then Ekala felt that she and Eumina might need to take him up on his offer of protection - Ekala was ageing, soon she would no longer be able to fight for Eumina and drive away stallions that wanted her. Once again, she snuffed comfortingly over Eumina's ears before turning back to the stallion.

"Pallarang. This is Eumina and I am Ekala, we thank you for your kind words and the help you have given and offered. If it pleases you, we will follow you through the Ramsheads to safety" She paused, looking carefully at Eumina and then back to Pallarang before adding, as if in afterthought "Should you pose any threat to us, know that I will fight just as fierce as any stallion, if not more." That said, she looked to Pallarang to lead the way, velvety grey nose upon Eumina, knowing that it would be hard for the terrified filly to follow the bay roan out of the Ramsheads, but also knowing it was necessary. That horrid beast of a stallion could still be roaming the mountains, and Ekala did not want to risk bumping into him in their current state. Eumina would have to toughen up and follow, or else risk staying the night in the cold and rocky mountains.