Mock Battles

There is fire in my opponent! I can see it in his eyes, building up from within and spilling over into his actions. He now has vengeance running through his veins. A terrible deed, rage can be, when it blinds the fighter. One must learn to control their temper and channel such deep hate into every move.
I can see how my block has stalled him, but this makes no difference. His feet are beneath me, striking at my tender underbelly and knocking me back, taking the wind from me. He has torn more skin, this time wide gashes skirt across my taught ribs. The russet blood trails rivers across my skin, and I roar in irritation. He has moved, his body leaning back to take a blow to my face, but in such a position, he has practically given me his underbelly to attack. I waste no time.

My tall form rushes forward, powerful neck stretching as I open my mouth and take another swipe at him. My teeth meet his flesh and I try to make the most of his vulnerable position, digging in for good measure. His feet instead strike my neck, ripping hair and bruising the flesh. My hope would be that in my new position his own weight would do the damage, in moving, he would have to rip his flesh from my teeth.

And he does. He lowers himself to swing to my side and I am forced to release him. His attack lands on his earlier damage, and I am knocked sideways, my hooves tearing into the earth in an effort not to fall. I am now facing him, and his legs are at a standstill. I take my chance.

I am seventeen hands. I know my weight and height will aide me in this crucial attack. I lunge forward, teeth bared and force sent to my hind, so all my weight is shifted forward. I aim for his front legs, a weak spot on any animal. With the short distance between us, and the full force of my frame, I might be able to inflict a severe wound to his legs, which will cost him greatly.