Sleepy Fox Hollow piltover

colosseum's nostrils flared as the mare's bray cut through the dry air, her scent lingering like a tantalizing whisper on the breeze. his thick neck arched, muscles rippling beneath his stormy coat as he turned towards her call. but before he could take another step, another sound rolled across the valley—the guttural call of a stallion. his ears pivoted, his head snapping toward the source, the promise of challenge sparking in his dark eyes.

the shift in his posture was immediate. his tail flagged high, a banner of dominance, as he wheeled to face the interloper. his hooves struck the ground with force, his powerful body coiling like a spring as a deep snort burst from his flared nostrils, sending a cloud of dust spiraling upward.

he advanced with measured steps, each one heavy with intent. his lips peeled back in a flehmen response, teeth bared as his muzzle wrinkled. his neck arched, corded with tension, his ears pinned flat against his skull as the tension between them thickened. colosseum's stride quickened, his hocks snapping with exaggerated flair, each step a defiant proclamation.

the distance between them shrank, and colosseum came to a sudden, stamping halt, his massive chest heaving as he pawed at the earth, his dark eyes locking onto the stallion's with a fire that refused to be ignored. this was no mere greeting; it was a gauntlet thrown, a wordless demand for respect—or submission.