The two of them crash into the midst of the main herd, throwing their saucer sized hooves all this way and that. The gallop had them lathered up with foaming sweat where they matched shoulder to shoulder and barrel to barrel. The wildness is inherent but more like their fathers and forefathers than their mother who trots vaguely in the distance behind them. She could have followed them as easily as following a thundercloud with all the ruckus they raised in this charge-along game.

They throw their heads low, biting at each others legs. They throw their heads and necks ahead of the other’s chest, snapping teeth at crest and ear - so much of a battle as to maybe make those not in-the-know think there was real fight afoot.

But they are just princes, high on their youth and the vehemence of their first fall in season. Testosterone rides them like a drug that water could not soften - and Tanhua had told the fathers particularly that perhaps they needed to teach them how to better control the urges and fight… though she did not realize that one of those fathers would be leaving in almost no time at all.

Then, like a tornado, the two skid to a halt and rise up, whirling and biting and flailing hooves as their hind legs danced around one another. A spectacle that has their mother sighing and apologizing idly to the bystanders she passes as she makes it at least to the loose gathering.

DASRA & NASATYA

DASRA & NASATYA