The stallion shuddered as the force of their collision rippled through his body. Crimson blood seeped down his neck, staining the blood-soaked sand below, a stark testament to the ferocity of the battle. His flanks heaved, his nostrils flared, but he stood firm. Only when the dun stallion staggered back, defeated, did the victor allow himself to acknowledge the battle's toll. A narrowed, glacial gaze followed the retreating form as the defeated stallion disappeared into the dense jungle beyond the shore.

A ragged breath escaped his lips, rustling the whiskers that fringed them. He shifted his gaze to his own form, a tapestry of scars and wounds. His powerful legs, broad shoulders, and muscled hindquarters, each bore the mark of battle. He raised his proud neck, only to wince as a white-hot pain lanced through his injured muscles, a stark reminder of the fight he had endured. A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, drawing his gaze sharply to the source. His dark-tipped ears flattened against his neck, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion as an unfamiliar stallion stepped from the shadows.

"That was a sound win," the stallion offered, his relaxed posture easing the suspicion that lingered in Sigurdr's mind. His muscles, previously taut with tension, softened slightly, and his ears, previously hidden within his dark, unkempt mane, emerged. Sigurdr nodded his head in appreciation to the stallion. It had been close and for a brief moment, he had wondered if the dun stallion would be defeated. With your kingdom won, I wonder what your next steps will be. the stallion mused aloud.

"First, secure the border then seek out those who will pledge their allegiance to me," he arched his eyebrow and fixed his piercing icy blue gaze upon the dark stallion. "Which is it? Friend or foe?" his muscles tense as he impatiently awaits the stallion's response.