Sarang swung her head around in awe as she took in the sheer size of the arena. She has never attended a gladiator competition before, never heard of it really until some whispers up the grapevine reached her ears. She had decided to not watch, since it was nothing but gruesome medieval entertainment, but when she heard that her own stallion was participating, well, that's a whole different story (and no wonder he's been missing from his home). So here she is, picking her way amongst the other spectators. There were so many horses here, black, white, red, blue, winged, you name it, but Sarang was interested in one horned stallion - Marston.
Suddenly she heard a familiar voice cry out, it was Tzila. Sarang smiled, glad there was someone else here to cheer on their man. Unfortunately the crowd was so thick she can no longer proceed onwards, and was instead stuck in her place. Luckily, it was toward the front so she had a nice open view of what was happening. The young mare settled in, swinging her hindquarters around to get a pesky yearling away from her side. Her sky blue eyes searched the different pits, looking for her horned stallion. At first she couldn't find him, and only after looking twice did she notice that Marston's horns are gone. That was quite strange, but then, with the magic of this place it seems like anything is possible. The young mare glanced at his opponent, and had to stifle a chuckle. The other stallion was lanky and leggy, more of a colt than a stallion. His physique was no match for his robust opponent. Sarang took in a deep breath.
"Marston! Go get that son of a bitch!" Her curse surprised herself a little; it must be the tense atmosphere and the riled up state of everyone around her. She refocused on the match at hand, stamping her feet in triumph as Marston landed a hoof on his rival. When the colt counterattacked and kicked up, Sarang cringed, hoping nothing serious was done. An intense dislike welled inside her towards this stranger attacking her man. She wants her stallion to win, and in the heat of the moment, she decided to aim her words at the skinny colt.
"Hey you scrawny chump, why don't you go back to daddy before my man beats your face in?!" Again, she surprised herself with the words streaming out of her mouth. Some of the horses around her turned around with a disapproving frown on their faces. Any other time she would apologize for her foul language (not that she'll speak them in the first place), but this was a different situation, and it calls for a different behavior. Sarang pushed their expressions out of her mind, focusing only on the pair of stallions dueling in the pit.
Go Marston!