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galant beast of silvertoned hue embarks upon dainty quagmire by air, hovering just above the quarry before wings are folded back, heavy impact upon the ground ignored as his joints are jarred. Anger, regret, sadness, despair; noone could see.
A challenge is issu'd to anyone within hearing distance, nape arched in an effort to attract the most challenging of opponents. Tainted muzzle hovers effortlessly close to muscled bosom, silver strands hurling in silent fury about nape and features.
Forget a race, or mock fight. Let's do this properly. Who wants a peace of this?
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