mare | mutt | blue roan | 15.2 | inlet | frost olaf x xina


The mare was a buzzkill; her reaction stifling to Xiomara’s need to do something exhilarating. The blue roan was not given time to answer though, the scream of a stallion off in the distance ringing with challenge. The blue roan stopped, her black ears flicking in confusion. How was it that a stallion not aware of her rank from a distance could tell she was a threat? Or did he treat all mares that way upon arrival? Stupid if he wanted a growing herd; though even if it was ridiculous, Xiomara felt her heart suddenly hammer in her chest. It was not fear, but excitement!


As the bigger painted stallion barreled in between them, Xiomara laced her black ears into her thick ebony mane; a hind hoof sweeping over into a cow kick in hopes of striking a hard blow against one of his precious cannon bones. He was relentless though, flailing like a ragweed in the wind with his front legs and trying to bite. Laughter bubbled up from her pink lips as her lithe body was able to dodge back; the sand not pulling at her feathered legs quite as much as his and her weight not causing her to sink into the sands so deeply.


“It’s about time you showed up, big man.” she cooed to him, putting on a burst of speed to round him, no longer caring about the mare at all. This is more what she had come for, the thrill boiling her blood with heated excitement. As the painted stallion kept coming at her, Xiomara raised up to slam her chest into his full force. Her hind legs dug into the sand to withstand his power, her blunt yellow teeth seeking the flesh of his neck just as she knew his would. As she dropped down, the mare pushed to move along his side and swing her rump towards him, aiming to kick him with as much force with both hind feet


Blood trickled down her blue flesh, the burn from his bites causing a giggle to escape her crimson stained pink lips. Blood for blood; Xiomara had gotten exactly what she wanted. So with a toss of her head, she finally moves back towards the water of her own accord. But not with tossing “Warsaw sends his regards.” over her shoulder as she went.