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The jungle’s heavy canopy allows very little light to the forest floor, but the little flickers that do make it past the dense vegetation shine vibrantly against Evander’s autumn-gold coat. The young dappled stallion slips through the jungle’s shadows like a huge cat, enjoying the warmth of those rare little patches of light on his back.

He is in unfamiliar territory, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he comes across an unfriendly face; however, he wholly expects that fact to be equine, and not feline. When he happens to stumble across one of the jaguar cubs peering boldly out at him from the brush, Evander is shocked into stillness. His heart beats rapidly, his ears cupping forward and quivering with adrenaline and alarm, but the staring contest only lasts a few seconds. Somewhere deeper in the forest, a sharp growl, and then an equine squeal rips through the air.

The sound is close, and Evander’s jaguar thinks better of him and turns toward the confrontation, slipping back into the brush to find its sibling and better odds of a meal. The breath comes whooshing from the dappled stallion’s lungs, but his relief doesn’t last long.

Anxiety for the unlucky, unknown other horse begins to rise in his chest, and he can’t make himself take this lucky opportunity to escape unscathed. He follows after the jaguar, crashing with far less grace through the jungle than the cat, and coming upon the confrontation shortly after the second jaguar. He can see that the two cubs are facing off against a lone mare who is lashing her front hooves at the approaching beasts. The cubs are clearly young and inexperienced, and it takes them a few swipes of the mare’s hooves before they split from each other and begin to circle away from her dangerous front end.

Evander does not consider himself a brave stallion, despite having all of the fearless arrogance of youth, but he doesn’t feel quite so much fear as he might have expected facing a big cat. He crashes forward, a little clumsily, his ears pinned to his red-gold mane and his nose wrinkled with a snarl. His jaws open and he gives (what he considers to be) a ferocious battle cry before engaging one of the cubs. It has spun around already at his approach, and he sees the spotted ears disappear against its muscled, spotted neck. It bares its enormous teeth and yowls at him.

Evander has never faced off against anyone before except other yearlings and young horses in playful spars. He hasn’t ever been in a real fight before, so he follows his instincts and the mare’s example. He strikes out with his front hooves at the beast, his neck curling and his chest puffing out courageously. A squeal rises unbidden in his throat as he lashes, wavering with his movements, turning into a low grunt when his hooves finally connect with the cat’s shoulder.

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