|  The world was dismal and grey yet the atmosphere buzzed like electricity. The black stallion couldn’t tell if it was the anticipation of a fight that added the tingle to the air or the thunderstorm that brewed in the clouds overhead. Ceolwulf had been watching like a shadow on the outskirts of the fray. He had been there when the battle call had sounded across the lagoon and agreed to assist when Dixon had asked for his help. Normally, he might have told the man to defend his own prize but Ceolwulf had been itching for a fight since the frustration of the season had set in.
He had watched Dixon push the pale trinket into the thicket across from where Ceolwulf stood with his black hide masked beneath the shadow of the trees. This was the second time Dixon had brought the perlino into the lagoon and the second time she had brought trouble with her. Ceolwulf might have asked Dixon why he found the mare so irresistible, or he might even have tried to find out for himself, but he just didn't care. He only cared about the slight against the lagoon name which was sure to come if they allowed one of the band stallions to take one of their trinkets and nothing gained in return.
The Iberian mutt’s yellow eyes were trained on each ripple of movement beneath the red and white stallion's skin as he made his entrance. The challenger was the shortest of the three stallions but it would make little difference in the battle. Ceolwulf had the greatest advantage here. He had the time to silently size up and judge his opponent's fighting ability while not taking any of the hits himself. His cold gaze scrutinised every detail of their movements in an attempt to find the weakness. If Bloodmane had not noticed him, or did not expect to face another defender of the pale mare, Ceolwulf would also have the element of surprise on his side.
Adrenaline flooded the black stallion’s veins as the sky rumbled overhead and he looked for his opportunity to strike. That moment came when the painted stallion landed from a rear and tried to assert his dominance over Dixon. Anger and irritation bubbled within Ceolwulf’s belly until he could no longer contain it. He would not allow such displays in his home.
[1]The breeze, still heavy with moisture and electricity, caught within the black strands of his tangled mane as he surged from his watching place with a battle cry bordering on a roar. He approached diagonally from Bloodmane’s right, promptly closing the distance between them. As he reached his rival, he slid to an almost-halt, his hooves leaving shallow furrows in the soil. As quickly as possible, he rocked back onto his haunches and, with a grunt, kicked his fore-hooves out at whatever part of Bloodmane was in range.
[2]If Bloodmane rose with him, as most would, he would snake his head around to bite at the stallion’s right shoulder or forearm on the descent. With any luck, the sharp edges of his canine teeth would find enough flesh to leave a mark. If, instead, Bloodmane tried to force his weight into Ceolwulf to knock him off balance, the black stallion would twist into his opponent. Pushing into his rival, he would follow that twist around before sending his rear hooves flying at whatever part of Bloodmane remained behind him.
Snorting after whichever scenario had just played out, Ceolwulf did his best to continue facing his opponent. His golden eyes watched the stallion carefully, nostrils flaring angrily as he stood his ground. Bloodmane would be going home empty handed today. As if to prove that point, the black stallion stamped a determined hoof into the earth just as the sky growled overhead.
[Attack One] Rear with fore-hooves kicking out at whatever part is in range
[Attack Two] Bite to the right shoulder and/or forearm OR Buck with rear-hooves aiming at whatever part is in range
XY . IBERIAN MUTT . BLACK . EE aa nPrl . 15.2 HH
Styrke x Solveig
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