He has thrown her off at first and he wonders at what possible reason that should have been - her beauty and the wildness swarming around her leaving him breathless. She awakens him in that fury, that part that says Ra’s flame is alive in his blood -- the warfever. It rises because he has so long quelled the hungers of the season and he has channeled it always into battle - never into the finer purposes his body was meant to encounter. She unburdens him of his nobility with each whip of deluge soaked lock, each dribble of sopped hide, each moment their eyes lock.
When he first strikes out his challenge to her, he loses himself entirely. Swallowed up whole with the savage desire to best the war-tested mare, to have her and in some way his subconscious seeks to tame himself by taming the woman who so aptly resembles the wildness in his own breast. He has chance enough, blooded in his own country’s late wars and feuds, but she bears more marks on her body of such things than he and his brothers combined.
His youth means he is not her better and there is a part of him who recognizes it despite the warfever. He trumpets his charge to her, lunging into a fray with teeth that do find a glancing purchase on her side -- buffeted off by the ribs beneath the surface. The fire that explodes from his elbow is answered in her proximity with a bite at her crest where she was dipped nearest and closest before she maneuvers out of range again. The teeth she gnashes as she passes through beyond him catches his haunch and he kicks towards her legs in reply to the evenly glanced blow.
His fever-blind retaliation means that he is almost unprepared for the two hind hooves that connect with a suddenly forward-moving stallion, his hip taking the blow at an angle that pushes one hind leg out from holding him upright. His forward lunge is hampered, therefore, but his motion does manage to be accomplished. He uses hindquarter steps to maintain movement towards her as she regathered her feet beneath her and aimed first for a blow of his hoof to catch her haunches -- and then his bared teeth to rake and scrape and bite at whatever purchase he might have bought with the slight added pains to his poorly abused hind leg.
It spurs him, though. This view of her, the sight of her back as his head came down towards her, so terribly tempting and only more honing for his interest… except that this interest is a distraction, warfever feeding into lust and then back again as he threw his head at the last to one side to avoid retaliative heels thrown towards his head.
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