Battle School: for feelings of rejection;;

"Damn this, damn that: there will be no talk of turning back!"

Battle school. It sounded proper to Kivioq; he was essentially a teenager, and it was only right that he go to some form of school, especially one that suited his trade. Yet when he arrived, it became apparent that he was not the one who was supposed to benefit from this academy of sorts; in fact, he was to be the teacher.

He didn’t recognize his student, but the scent of pine seeped from the hairs of his coat like smoke from a flame. He was slimmer than Kivioq, over a hand shorter, and immediately he had the advantage of speed. Kivioq grunted in acknowledgement as the dark stallion approached, then tensed in preparation for his first defense. As Kreios lunged, Kivioq was dancing—or perhaps “fumbling” is the more proper description, as he was never one for grace—away from the smaller warrior. While he did not know precisely where the stallion intended to strike, he would be sure to make himself a more challenging target, his vulnerable legs never still for more than a moment.

Yet as Kreios reared, he miscalculated in height. Had Kivioq been standing still, Kreios would have met thin air—based on their height differences, Kivioq’s flank would have required more than a slight rear on Kreios’s part if he wished to attack with any force. Yet Kivioq’s motion placed his right hind leg in the path of Kreios’s hooves, and the Marwari stallion’s feet collided with Kivioq’s gaskin. He groaned in protest, his ears laced back in dismay; school was supposed to be a “safe place,” wasn’t it? As his injured leg met the ground, he winced. It wasn’t devastating, but it left him with a noticeable limp.

But his opponent wasn’t done, and he was surely going to use all the speed in his arsenal. The second attack, though it came quickly, allowed for some planning on Kivioq’s part. As soon as Kreios was halfway through turning around, Kivioq could foresee his attack. Surely the only option was for him to attack with his hind legs in some way. Kivioq, ever-awkward on his long legs, could not expect to evade by moving forward or sideways. His hind leg was too sore for him to rear—the only option he could see was to buck as well, though in this case it would be an evasion rather than an offensive move. This thought process took too long for him to escape the onslaught of Kreios’s hooves entirely, and so the darker stallion clipped at the bottom of his ribs. It would bruise, perhaps cause him pain if he attempted to stretch his abdominal muscles quite far; though for the most part, it wouldn’t bother him terribly. As he landed, he was careful to bring his injured leg to the ground last in an attempt to favor it.

Having finished his turn, Kreios moved rapidly away from his teacher, an intelligent move on his part. Yet Kivioq did not plan to let him escape entirely; he wheeled 90 degrees and bolted, in close pursuit of his foe. Kivioq rarely ran full out, yet when he did it felt good on his lungs. Of course he could not move at his fullest speed with an injured leg, but he did his best to keep up with the Marwari until he slowed. It was then that Kivioq slammed on the brakes, transitioning from an extended canter to a more collected gait. He drew parallel to Kreios, knowing that he could not expect this sort of proximity for long. With his right foreleg he struck out for the stallion’s left knee, using his combo to attack the leg twice. In between blows he adjusted to match the stallion’s position, ensuring that at least once he would land a square blow.

Having crippled his student, he used the pause that Kreios would surely take to land his second attack. Remaining parallel to his opponent, his right hind leg coiled and struck—he didn’t even need to buck to reach his target. He aimed for the front of the stallion’s hock or the upper end of the cannon bone; either would do. Their bodies were close enough that such a blow would be overwhelmingly painful, and Kivioq relished in the sound of hoof on bone. Having attacked with his right leg, his injured left leg had no part in his attack.

As he landed, he let the momentum carry him for another stride. With a nod, he paid Kreios a final acknowledgement before limping back to the woods.

brz kivioq
--sergeant of andarin--