The fight between beasts felt more like a dance to the warrior queen. Strike for strike, touch for touch, it all brought her a joyful pleasure she would never be able to explain to anyone else. But in this adrenaline-filled moment, she felt as if the black stallion knew and fully understood in his own way. That is, until she ripped away any sense he held by the blood slicked appendage in her mouth. Xiomara tried not to drop her trophy, keeping it clenched in her mouth until she was forced to let it go so that she could bite as his ebony-colored hide again.


When the stallion’s hooves return to the ground, Xiomara expects him to continue his retaliation. The weight of his chest slamming into her shoulder was unexpected, and the mare is forced to sidestep to keep from being knocked over in the process. Icy-blue eye rolling back to watch the stallion, she cannot help but be surprised as he falls to his knees and remains there. Tossing her head, black mane now matted in blood cascading on either side of her sweat slicked neck, Xiomara pivots her hind end away so that she could once again be facing him straight on.


Kneeling before her, the tyrant had finally given in.


Xiomara feels the heady rush of power as she stands over him, victorious in the brutal battle. But she could not let it get to her, as she knew she wasn’t immortal, and age was creeping up on her. She had felt it during the battle with this vicious younger stallion, and for a moment, she had wondered if his stamina would outlast her own.


“I have heard of your crimes, Fell, and I am the consequence and your warning. I don’t care what mare you steal, or fight for, but if I catch wind of your brutality; if I see evidence of your merciless anger on a mare again, I will return and I will finish this.” Xiomara said, her voice as chilling as the coldest Tinuvel winter day.


Without waiting a second longer, the skull faced Queen lashed out a front hoof, striking Fell one last time.