Common

The smaller stallion struck him repeatedly, and with each blow Panzer took another step toward the Lagoon. Cullen was nimble, able to dodge the assaults afforded by the draft’s large hooves and so he granted him the credit he had earned by besting him in their little scrap. With a snort, he gradually moved forward more than he continued attempting to slam a hoof into his side, keeping his small ears pasted firmly to his skull to indicate his displeasure. At least Cullen had finally stopped the idle chatter—the empty threats and the arrogant grandstanding. The sound only of footfalls and breath was a small measure of relief, accompanied by the familiar throbbing of pain from where he had been repeatedly kicked.

Panzer didn’t care about status. He would remain a “trinket” subordinate to Cullen’s whims for as long as the Lagoon boss continued to best him in battle—and if there was one thing that was certain, it was more violence. The whims of this stallion to use him for whatever purpose he wanted was nothing more than an annoying distraction that pulled Panzer away from his goal. And yet, the fresh bruises that formed under his skin, throbbing and sore, would not let him forget.

Cullen might have driven him to the Lagoon, but he also fueled the fire that raged inside Panzer’s chest—rippling and roaring with the promise of bursting forth and destroying everything in its path.


PANZER