There it was. The spark. The little bright light that erupted, the one that she craved. To fight and wage war was to live in a manner that she was deprived of. She couldn’t feel it, she couldn’t feel the surging in her body beyond the odd feeling of pressure changing. She wasn’t aware if she was hot or cold, but she assumed it was the heat that coursed through her, burning so warm she would ignite anyone who touched her. She heard the words spoken by the grulla, the one who had simply slid up and seemed to expect a rational, calm conversation.
And to her Maraigh’s attention shifts for a moment, as she fixed her malevolent, maddened expression upon her.
“But this is nice,” she replies, hissing the words out as she snakes her head towards her, “You should try it, and tell me how it feels, with your blood hammering through your body, and how it feels when it is flowing from torn flesh!” She says as her voice becomes a pitch higher as she levelled herself.
For a moment, it looked like she was going to jump on Koala or the other one, the one who scoffed and thought they were foolish. It was the truth, Maraigh was a fool, but she didn’t have any concern for her own wellbeing.
And then there was the speckled bay moving towards her and Maraigh’s nostrils flare wide as she whistled in triumph, spinning in place with her forelegs tucking to her chest to face the oncoming violence - it didn’t matter to her who accepted, for all she cared all four could have erupted into a brawl and she’d have enjoyed every moment.
Let them feel alive!
Maraigh felt something grab at her, something like pressure being place upon her skin. She wrenches her neck sideways and shoves her weight into Yazheen as she rises up - not caring if her skin peels from the iron grip of the littler mare - and lashes out with her forelegs, seeking that sensation that would come with the colliding of hoof and flesh.