Tension hung in the air like smoke did after Braeburn accidentally set his house on fire. Again. Thankfully, while this smoke like hanging did involve the chartreuse stallion, it did not involve his house being on literal fire. This time.
The feeling of fire was present, however. The soft murmur of voices, the gentle shuffle of bets being hoofed from one to another, the anticipation for what was coming all flowed together to create a dull roar that burned Braeburn’s ears. It caused a small spark of pride in his chest, knowing that the roar was there for and because of him.
It was all background music really, the fire that was made up of shouts of joy and friendly gambling. Not to mention the real fires that those kids that had no business being here were roasting marshmallows over. None of that mattered to Braeburn at the moment. The only thing he saw, the only thing he comprehended, was the pretty buffalo sitting across from him.
Wait...what? No. That’s not what he meant. Sure Little Strongheart was a fairly attractive...the correct term was cow but Braeburn thought that was a tad offensive to his buffalo friend. Sure she was pretty and nice and smelled of honey and had a fire in her eyes that Braeburn thought mingled just right with his slightly less burning fire but none of that was important at the moment! And certainly not the reason he was focused so intently on her.
The reason for his interest at that exact moment was that Braeburn and Strongheart were about to undertake in the greatest competition of their life. This was the day it would be decided. This was the event that the age old question would be answered. This was the duo that would finally decide if Buffalo or Ponies were the superior race. This was the moment history would be decided!
Basically, the two were going to hoofwrassle and the winner got unlimited bragging rights and a sticker that the marshmallow roasting kids thought looked cute.
Also some bets were being made on them so there was a lot of pressure.
Braeburn stared at Strongheart, their faces identical in the confident smirk they wore. “Ya sure ya want to go through this?” Braeburn asked, his face trying to outmatch hers in the smirking area. “We could save ya a heap of embarrassment if ya back down now.”
“I wouldn’t count me out just yet.” Little Strongheart replied nonchalantly, dang it, how did her smirk have more fire then his? She wasn’t even trying for pete sake! “I may not look like all that much but I’ve bested some of the strongest Buffalo in my tribe.”
Braeburn stole a glance around his friend to the Buffalo in the background. They were the the biggest source of the background fire. They chuckled and laughed to themselves, and it made a warm smile spread across Apple Horse's face to see them conversing with some of the settler Ponies. It was nice to see them still getting along. The biggest thing about the Buffalo, and what Braeburn was focusing on was, well, them. They were huge. Twice as big as most ponies and the big ones were thrice as big as the small ponies. Braeburn was pretty sure he could ride on one of their backs and they wouldn’t notice.
He turned back to his friend with a surprised look. In comparison to her brethren Strongheart was a stick figure on a absolutely nothing diet. Her thin legs looked like the roosting marshmallow kids could break them with their melting marshmallows.
Braeburn tilted his hat back and chuckled confidently, trying to hide the slight nervousness in his voice. “Well all that means is that if ah beat you I beat all yer kin too.”
Strongheart’s fiery gaze didn’t waver in the slightest. If nothing else her smirk got bigger. “Well I suppose that’s true but you still have to see if you can beat me. Ref...” She waved a hoof at the stallion that neither of them had met before this day. Perfect for being an unbiased ref. “We’re ready to start I think.”
The ref nodded and stood at attention next to the two dueling individuals. The colors of his coat also reminded Braeburn of fire. It was red and bright and very scruffy and, courtesy of the marshmallow kids no doubt, slightly on actual fire. He was scrawny and small with an unfortunate mane cut and face that made him look about as respectable as a turkey with a sombrero on it’s head.
Despite his unfortunate appearance everyone was aware of the power that he possessed in the small whistle around his neck, and as he stood there, looking ridiculous with his slightly burning fur, the background fire, metaphorical or otherwise, died to a low flicker. Braeburn once again concentrated all energy into giving Strongheart a death glare and she, with seemingly little effort, was putting on a pretty good one of her own. Their internal fires intermixed and danced in a flaming battle of power. They waited with tense breath for the ref to start the match that would decide which species was stronger.
The tweet of the whistle was the spark to start it. Like fire the crowed roared. Like fire the two snapped into action, each straining against the other. Like fire the literal fires burned wood and marshmallows alike and a crack, like a hungry fire, greedy, destructing fire was heard over the defining roar of all the other fire noises.
The whole situation was just like fire. From the ponies and the buffalo, to the chicken sombrero ref, to even the marshmallow kids now watching intently. It was all one big roaring fire that consumed the clearing. And that’s exactly what Braeburn’s hoof felt like five seconds after that crack.
Like fire.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAA!!!!!!!!
The girliest scream anyone in the crowd had ever heard silenced all the other fires to a sputter. Even the literal ones.
