But Pitch’s words were lost in the heavy, terrible clashing of bodies as the two stallions met with such fury as could only be kindled by two wild, savage animals whose only intent is to kill.

They had met head on, neither seeking to avoid the other, and each consumed with an unearthly hatred that turned them into raging beasts, horrible to see.

Seemingly unmindful of the Piebald’s superior weight, Flame rose with the black-and-white stallion after the first resounding clash that had locked them together. His teeth tore at the neck of the Piebald, seeking a hold which once secured would never be released. Screaming in rage, the Piebald drove his heavy hoofs into Flame’s shoulders, and the red stallion reeled back from the force of the blows. Plunging forward, the Piebald sought to drive Flame to the ground. But the red stallion twirled and in an instant had raised his long hindquarters, his hoofs battering his opponent’s face. Staggering, the Piebald took the blows and rose to meet Flame as the red stallion circled and moved in on him again. They were locked together once more, raking teeth their only weapons, and the screams of both reached a new and terrible pitch.

Each lunged for the other’s neck. But always there would be a twisting, a turning of bodies that avoided death by fractions of inches. More and more the Piebald sought to use his brute weight by throwing himself repeatedly on the red stallion. But he was fearful of Flame’s teeth, which moved with the speed of a striking snake.

“Why doesn’t Flame keep away from him? Why doesn’t he?” Steve babbled.

“He knows what he’s doing,” Pitch said quickly.

But as the fighting at close quarters continued with neither giving way, the Piebald’s superior weight began to tell on Flame. His movements were slower and several times the Piebald’s raking teeth had almost secured their hold on Flame’s neck before the red stallion was able to twist away.

The Piebald fought with renewed energy as he hurled his thick body again and again at his opponent. Crazed eyes of blue and white were wild, now that the moment of triumph was near.

Forelegs wrapped about each other’s neck, they screamed and bit and tore at ravaged flesh, their snapping teeth like rapiers in the hands of expert swordsmen—striking, parrying, never ending.

Demons rather than horses, their bodies wet with sweat and blood, they stood on hind legs for many minutes, savaging each other mercilessly. Then slowly, ever so slowly, it was the red stallion who gave ground. Screaming and following up his advantage, the Piebald hurled his massive body more heavily upon Flame until the red stallion, squealing in pain, wrenched himself clear of the Piebald.