Warning: Violence, language, and possible death


The scream that split the air was like nothing Tyr had ever heard before.


The stallion was standing alone; his blue-green eyes cast over the Ridge’s edge that dropped down into the sea. The wind that raced up the cliff face buffeted him in the face and made his mane and forelock dance wildly. The smell of salt and sand filled Tyr’s nose, and he could almost smile at the tranquility. Only that peace was shattered, and the stallion felt as if his soul was being ripped free of his body. His golden hide flinched, his eyes briefly closing, and all he could picture was some horrible death Oswin had found for herself. That the scream was her last dying warrior’s breath.


Whoever had caused her to scream like that would not be given the air to breathe with, much less utter a sound.


Eyes opening, a dark gleam reflected in Tyr’s eyes, and his expression changed. No matter how many seasons passed, or how many times Tyr fought his inner demons, he would not be able to change who he was deep down. Especially now, especially over this. Turning, the massive stallion launched himself into a canter down the trail that led from his watch post into the jungle. He couldn’t keep the same pace, the vines and limbs raking across his body, trying to slow him down and bringing him into a long, powerful trot.


Once Tyr broke free of the thickest parts of the Jungle, he moved into a canter, but his large body couldn’t weave the palms any faster to be able to gallop. His ears picked up the situation at first, hearing the young stallion’s voice crying out to his mother. When Tyr finally busted out onto the scene, his eyes could only see the painted form of Psychedelic.


White hot rage pulsed through Tyr instantly, and his body flushed as adrenaline surged through his body. All rational thought left the stallion, not realizing it wasn’t Oswin standing there with a new foal; not realizing it wasn’t his son laying prone on the ground screaming at her. Blue-green eyes could not leave Psychedelic, while his hind hooves dug deeper, spraying sand behind him as he pushed his body as fast as he possibly could. He would kill him, just as he meant to kill him in the Lagoon that day long since passed.


Light a freight train, Tyr hit Psychedelic broadside with every ounce of speed and power the massive stallion had. He could feel the older stallion’s body crumble around his own as Tyr’s chest landed solidly in the middle of Psychedelic’s ribs, no doubt knocking the air from him, but also possibly breaking a few. As Psych’s body was tossed to the sand, Tyr had to catch himself to keep from tripping and falling over the stallion. His weight shifting back onto the same haunches that had been thrusting him; now balancing him to stop and not topple over forward.


As Tyr straightened, he briefly looked over to the young stallion on the ground, now seeing that it wasn’t Oswald before turning his head to see that it wasn’t Oswin either. He knew their scent as it washed around him, had caught it plenty of times in the wind. If only he knew it was his grandson that Psych had left bleeding, if only he had known it was Frey’s mate that Psych was clearly going to harm. Or perhaps even her newborn foal.


No.


Tyr could not get any more furious than he already was. There was no further tipping point for him.


“Get up, bastard.” he growled, his voice sounding predatory as he looked to the painted stallion at his hooves. “There is no one to save you today.” There wouldn’t be Oswin to interfere in hopes of saving his soul. No Vadim, terrified of what it meant to see his sire so furious. No Peak mares; No Lagoon brothers. Psychedelic was alone, and in Tyr’s territory.


Tyr could barely contain himself, his front hoof giving a few paws across the sand while his neck arched, and his ears flattened back while he waited for Psychedelic to get up. He didn’t look at the others again. His sole focus was on the brute who had cost him and Oswin everything they had spent their lives trying to achieve. Whether Psych was taking his time or not, it felt like an eternity before he got to his hooves. Tyr managed to let the old stallion face him, before he launched his next attack.


With a furious, gruntal squeal; Tyr reared up at the old stallion. Lashing at him, trying to force him into a response, and was satisfied when Psychedelic finally gave it to him. As the stallion reared, clashing into Tyr at long last, the draft stallion gapped open his jaws and latched them around Psychedelic’s jugular. He could feel the windpipe give beneath his teeth, knowing as it crushed it cut away every ounce of air Psych could have. The taste of copper burned across Tyr’s tongue as his teeth broke the skin, and he gave another gruntal sound, before giving a lash of his head. Unknowing to him, the very thing Psychedelic had done to that innocent foal.


When Tyr could feel Psychedelic’s body sag against his own; could feel the life bleeding out of the old stallion’s body, he finally let go as his front hooves crashed back down to the ground. His flanks heaved; his nostrils flared as they drug in lungsful of air that Psychedelic was no longer allowed to have. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and all Tyr had left to do was simply watch as his enemy lay dying at his hooves.