Frost could hardly help that fear that seemed to eclipse his mind entirely in those few moments in which his hooves found solid ground. Just how they had survived that fall hardly seemed to occur to register within the stallions mind. Rather, that combination of adrenaline, shock and confusion seemed only to perpetuate the feeling of panic within the equine at the feel and sound of those new appendages that had sprouted so unknowingly from his shoulders. That very fear that something had grabbed hold of him was near primal. A deeply seated, instinctive fear that prompted an equally instinctive response. Frost, in that moment, entirely assured that need to defend himself was far greater than attempting to work out how he had survived at all- much less to recall that the unfortunate Alexander was still seated upon his back. The first of those bucks was nothing short of explosive. Several more of those gymnastic maneuvers followed in quick succession. Those mid-air twists nothing short of impressive upon an equine so large and yet the stallion was driven by little save pure fear. That final buck was nothing short of near violent in its determination. How Alexander had not been sent flying was perhaps a miracle within itself. Frost having all but forgotten his rider in that precarious moment.
The war horse hardly felt Alexander's fingers digging into the depths of his white mane before the Hunter all but threw himself forward and agianst the stallion's powerful neck. His companions hand abruptly reached forward to cover his singular, working eye. Frost's entire world was abruptly plunged into darkness. It was with a single, final lurch forward that the stallion braced his legs agianst the earth, his stance very near splayed as every instinct within himself commanded him to stop. That fear suddenly unseen and unrecognisable. His form all but frozen as every muscle pulled taut like a loaded spring merely waiting for any excuse to uncoil once more. Every sound seemed far too loud. Frost, in that moment, remained near hyper aware of the world around and yet his sudden lack of motion had, in turn, prevented that rustling, dragging sound of the wings that had so terrified him to begin with. His mind, at last, seemed to find some sense of clarity before Alexander's voice managed to permeate that fearful haze. Frost's ears shifted, the stallion afforded his rider little more than a flick before those ears at last rotated backward in a sign of his attention, at last, returning to Alexander. The Hunter's words prompted a single, deep exhale from the equine as that tension, finally, began to leave his frame. Frost, for the first time, attempting to make some sense of the situation. Something....hurt. His shoulder perhaps. The scent of blood was markedly strong. He'd injured himself somehow. That very thought pressed to Alexander's mind then as Frost own far more human thoughts began to take hold once more.
Frost's form shifted slightly, that vague movement coaxed those feathers to rustle again. That sudden near instantly coaxing every muscle within the ivory stallions frame to tense all over again. Whatever it was.....was still nearby. He was....caught in it perhaps. Yes. He was caught in something. He could feel it. Clinging at his sides. Alexander's voice was quick to fill his ears once more. The Hunters assurance that he was here was oddly....comforting. Even if the war horse would staunchly refuse to admit such a thing later. The stallion inclined to settle once more beneath that simple assurance. Frost, despite himself, was willing to admit he....trusted Alexander. Entirely so. Whatever damage had been done the other man would repair- somehow. Frost, for the first time, began to consider just how they had survived that jump at all with little more than his damaged shoulder. No scent of Alexander's blood lingered within the air. The Hunter's sudden assurance that was not caught only furthered the Were's confusion before Alexander announced he had grown...wings. Like Pegasus.
He had either misheard the man or Alexander had landed upon his head in some fashion. The Hunter was hardly the sort of being inclined to joke and yet- those words still failed to settle within Frost's own thoughts. Wings? He had injured his....wing? That, in the very least, would explain that pain within what he had believed to be his shoulder and yet wings seemed nothing short of implausible. Alexander shifted atop him then, that soft tug of the reins prompting Frost's head to turn obediently with that command. Frost, in that moment, far too perplexed to truly argue the soft pressure of the bit between his teeth. Alexanders query as to whether or not he was ready, however, prompted a sense of uncertainty within the steed once more.
His words were so hardly filled with confidence. Frost unable to truly believe he was about to be presented with the sight of wings before Alexander's hand abruptly lifted from his face. The sudden bright light of day was nothing short of glaring in that moment. Frost momentarily forced to near squint as his gaze adjusted and yet the sight of that singular, gleaming white wing was utterly unavoidable. Frost, for several moments, merely inclined to stare at it in silence. How very...obscure this was. His weight shifted once more, those feathers ruffling slightly and yet with those wings in sight the stallion found himself far more curious then afraid of those appendages. How on earth did he move them? Alexander, seemingly satisfied, slid easily from the saddle then before stepping back to eye Frost entirely. The Hunter's question of the saddle making Frost aware of that equipment all over again as his weight shifted almost experimentally. That saddle felt....misplaced. The leather rubbing at the back of his wings. Wings. How very unused to that thought he was.
"It is uncomfortable. It's not sitting right. It needs to be further back but the girth strap is in the wrong place for it to go much further. It's pinching at the...wing joint- I suppose you call it."
That thought was still nothing short of baffling. Frost hardly having taken his gaze off those splendid appendages before Alexander announced he intended to touch that damaged right wing. The Hunter crossed onto Frost's blind side then. The stallion notoriously....protective of that side entirely. Alexanders hands reached forward then to tenderly take that feathered limb. The sudden feel of the Hunter's hands, expected though it was, prompted a snort of surprise from the horse. That wing jerking involuntarily.
"That hurts. I can feel your hands though. It feels so...odd. How does it look? Is it badly damaged?"
That entire side was little more than blackness to the equine. Frost was unable to see that wound and yet it already felt....better. That Were-healing having already begun to repair the damage done within the fall. Frost, for the first time, becoming aware of the sheer weight of those appendages. The stallion oblivious of any way in which he might fold them agianst himself, that left wing lay loosely at his side and draped across the ground, the right held upward partially by Alexander and partially by his own efforts.
"I don't know how to move them- not really. Let alone shift them away. I feel wings might be....illegal within this race."
Could they even be shifted away? Surely they could and yet just how he intended to do that the stallion hardly knew. An entirely different thought seemed to strike him then. Frost attempted to angle his head as best he could in an effort to place his companion within his violet gaze.
"Alexander. Do you think I can truly fly with these? Are they your doing? Did your other horses fly? Why didn't your son tell us we were going to fall off a fucking cliff?"