"I'm not just any boy-" Raegar teased, enjoying himself immensely. He would have likely continued on in that vein if the resounding snort of the resident lead hadn't ricocheted through their relatively quiet conversation. The sound alone was enough to command his attention and he turned toward it, dark ears flicking forward toward the Marwari cross. In truth, he had almost forgotten the reason he'd swum across the islands again, but the familiar sight of his friend-foe was enough to remind him of the need to burn off steam. To return to a sense of normalcy after his last disastrous attempt on the Dunes.

Raegar laughs, the sound throaty and content, but he does not leave Sinaet's side immediately. Bearing a Cheshire grin, he attempts to reach out for her again, seeking to brush his lips along her skin in a promise for the future. "I'll be back for you," he murmured with a wink, before whirling toward Fell and launching into a lope.

They had met in battle often enough that they knew each other's styles. Knew the rhythm of strikes and bites and kicks, of turns and spins and dodges. Fighting between them now was half chess game, half mad dash for fun. Even now, as he raced after the lithe shadow ahead of him, he did so without truly knowing what he planned to take if he won. He hadn't yet been successful in wresting mares away from the dark stallion on any consistent basis, and in truth, didn't really care whether he took a prize home or not. But choosing one was customary, and Raegar had come to rely on this particular ritual more than he would like to admit. So when the pretty spotted mare appeared of them - he tossed his head at her in an indication of his intent - and then launched himself wholeheartedly at the dark stallion, jaws bared.

Whether he made contact with the black's withers or not didn't really matter: the first opening strikes were always a formality anyway, a way of establishing themselves and gauging the seriousness of the battle. And the overo knew well enough that he'd need to stay aware of his feet beneath him or else Fell would be all too happy to take advantage. It was one of the many things he'd learned the hard way beneath Fell's tutelage, and he had been rolled onto his rump more than once by a well-placed bite or carefully placed hoof meant to trip.

young stallion - mutt - seal bay overo - 15.1h - rafe x velahrn