Indifference would have been infuriating.

Fear, Despair, Anger; these were the emotions that the black stallion got off on. He liked the way faces distorted and muscles tensed or withered in the face of his assaults. The emotional response to his very presence and actions was what fuelled him. He lived for it, so when the shiny mare turned on him, he merely threw his head back with a chuckle. Her hooves flashed past his cheek, a rush of air whirring past him as they just missed connecting.

Action was invigorating.

His golden eyes stayed locked on the mare, his wolfish stare tracking her as she turned to charge him. His dark ears pressed down to become hidden by the still-damp tangle of his mane at the sound of her scream but he did not back down. He did not cringe or evade. He did not just stand there and take it. Instead, he pushed forwards to meet her. Ceolwulf was not a gentleman. He did not recoil at the thought of injuring a woman. So long as she was not permanently damaged, she would serve her purpose as a sought after bargaining chip. No doubt roughing her up a little would make her man all the more eager to get her back. He’d have stopped to congratulate himself on being so clever but he had a feisty mare to see to.

Action was the wheels of change

Matching her scream with a deep bellow of his own, he pushed forwards. His yellowed teeth snapped in return at whatever pieces of flesh they could find along her face and neck. Sharp pains pricked over his cheek and the bridge of his nose as her teeth sought him out but her pain that little heed. That was the price for progress.