
In the Dark of the Woods, two Shadows raced. Muscles pumping, breaths even and deep, hooves trampling the grass, the large, darker of the pair stretched his nose ahead. White flashed on one side of his face, surrounding a shadowed blue orb. Craning his head around slightly to eye his counterpart, he whickered a soft challenge. Wings clasped to his back, the gold flickered in the dark.
"Come On Runt..." He taunted.

Somewhat more delicate, but by no means a runt, the younger, lighter of the shadows gave a snort. His fine neck stretched out, delicate head soon moving past that of the older stallion, eyes blazing silver with triumph. Imrikalto had been raised to be a gentleman, just as his GodBrother Aureate had... But in a race, he had to wind. Just. Had. To. Win. For whenever they raced with Aureate in the air, the Wind stallion won.
Not Today.