Echoes of hoofsteps indicated that she'd finally uncovered her own losses, their entire encounter boiled down to a battle she couldn't win. Her pedigree was lacking a line of monsters that would make for an indomitable spirit, the bite to her tone something tenuously learned, whereas he'd grown up knowing how to fight, how best to disable and eradicate as swiftly as possible. The intricacies of death and life had never felt entirely separate to the stallion, each built on tiers of smoke like funeral pyres and wishes on one's day of birth. But she hadn't known, hadn't even thought to learn, and so the simplest segment of knowledge could be fashioned into a honed edge that delivered the killing stroke.
He'd had the ability to end it all along, the conversation that was more of an undercutting game on both sides once she'd picked up on it. But ending was not winning, and so much pointless talking had left a bad taste in his mouth, one that only served to infect the words that spilled forth. He could demolish irritating idealism, but he couldn't enforce a more pragmatic outlook without involving himself more deeply than he cared to. The reminder made his gums itch, and his tail still ached a little from where she'd snagged it, though he couldn't be bothered to admit the act had been anything beyond dumb chance.
But he did hear her parting snipe on the breeze, and it made him pause for a thunderous heartbeat while his ears gathered up the wispy sentiment. What was it with some of these forest-dwellers, that made them rely so heavily on affection? It was groundless in a brawl, and plain stupid in a debate. He could be loved and feel love for as many individuals as he wanted, but that wouldn't prevent anything. It didn't stop life and it's cloaked companion from trampling right the hell over everything. All in all, he preferred his methods to hers, the strength it took to do on his own terms what weaker breeds turned over to others for comfort. Because he'd been on the mountain most of his life, and it wasn't so bad.
