Alexander's near blatant insistence that Frost was yet to provide him a good reason as to why he shouldn't be forced to carry that sopping wet, muddied animal was met with a distinctly notable pinning of the stallions ears. The validity of the reason, as far as Frost was concerned, mattered little. The equine, so momentarily, contemplated arguing the very morality of that response when Alexander himself was the judge of whether or not a reason was good or not while being biased towards that puppy. Such morals, however, were pushed aside in the wake of Alexander's efforts to reach for Frost's bridle. The stallion was quick to dodge that reach, his handsome head pulled upward and high and well out of reach of his rider in an act of defiance of the kind Frost had hardly shown in well over a year. For several long moments the violet gaze of the war house shifted to meet the striking blue of his companions in a clear and unspoken challenge. Either Alexander would yield that puppy- or Frost would refuse to allow him to ride. The pair could walk- as far as Frost was concerned. Even if such a thing was sure to more than decimate any chance they had of victory in this race. The addition of a puppy, in the very least, would be equally as hampering. Frost was certain. It had hardly occurred to the equine that his distinct distaste of dogs was, perhaps, far more animalistic then personal. That deeply ingrained disdain for canines was a distinctly equine phobia. One his human mind had yet to truly isolate for any depth of consideration. Frost, here and now, was merely content to support those instincts. That animal would eat them in their sleep. Alexander would hardly find it so adorable then.
That foreign curse that left Alexander's lips was hardly missed and yet Frost afforded it little more than a snort as his tail flicked up to lash at his flanks. The equine equivalent of folding his arms in a veritable huff. Neither man, it seemed, was willing to back down. Alexander lunged again, that movement sudden and, this time, further enchanted with that supernatural speed the Hunter was capable off. Frost's own head was jerked backward once more. Alexander's fingers only just missing those reins and yet something had managed to grasp them. Frost's head was almost forcibly jerked downward. The equine cursing that bridle- and the puppy who held the reins in its tiny teeth. The dog clearly of the belief that this was the ultimate game of tug of war. Alexander's good natured chuckle as he reached to take the reins from the puppy only further soured the stallions mood. As if the dog was not bad enough- Alexander clearly had some sort of...affection for it. Frost, despite his refusal to admit to such a petty emotion, was near inclined to feel almost...jealous of the hateful creature. Frost's muzzle extended briefly towards it, if only to sample at the scents that littered its coat. The puppy, delighted to be interacted with, extended its own nose- before abruptly releasing a bark of glee. That sudden, sharp sound, prompted Frost's own head to fly backward once more- at least until those reins jerked him backward again. Alexander firmly holding that leather within his hands.
That noise of irritation that rose from within the equine was surely clear as Alexander moved to swing up into the saddle. Frost, for now, willing to admit he had been bested and yet the equine was unwilling to concede that round without complaint. The war horse swung near immediately into a canter- that sudden pace designed to firmly jolt both Alexander and Peritas. The Hunter staunchly insisted that perhaps if Frost listened better that Peritas would hardly have been required to chase him.
"I will buck you off- don't think I won't."
That Frost had not yet succeeded in unseating the Macedonian (despite some glorious past attempts) so hardly mattered. Alexander, he suspected, would have a far harder time attempting to protect that puppy from being sent flying as well as trying to remain seated in turn. That threat however, at least for now, was largely empty. Frost merely determined to offer that warning as his stride lengthened, the trio finally moving once more- only for something to capture Alexander's attention off to the side. Another competitor. Finally. That intruding puppy was momentarily forgotten as Frot's speed increased, that query of how far they were from the base camp prompted Alexander to fish that GPS from the saddle bag. A mile and a half. They could gallop that far. They had trained for that very thing after all. Those months and years spent in that arena and on those trails and battlefields had steadily worked to increase the fitness and stamina of both man and horse. Frost was entirely sure he could make that last mile or so a true race. The equine's speed increased once more and- when Alexander made no effort to check him back to a slower speed- Frost so finally extended his limbs into that full gallop. The war horse very near flying across that open plain.
Their competitor was quick to spot that race, the other man urging his little bay mare onward. The mare was barely more than a pony and yet on those open plains she was hardly slow by any means. Sure-footed and nimble, her agility so readily countered Frost's far longer stride as both horses steadily pulled closer to one another until they raced near side by side. Peritas, seated on that saddle, so eagerly pressed his own face to the wind. The puppy so clearly adoring that ride. Frost's own ears pinned further back in simple concentration, the stallion's heels dug harder into the earth as the sound of those pounding hooves echoed for miles. Those horses, neck and neck, thundered towards the rapidly approaching base camp that rested atop a hill. Several other competitors, attracted by that noise, drew to the edge of the base camp only to point out those two racing riders and draw the rest of the camp forward to watch. That pace was near breakneck as both horses hit the base of the hill before beginning to gallop up that steep incline. That little bay mare had been almost gallant in her efforts to keep up with her far larger opponent and yet, once hit with that hill, her far shorter legs and the weight of her own rider so readily began to slow her down. Frost's own far longer stride and vastly more powerful form easily began to draw away, the heavy draft powering up that hill. The smaller mare left behind in his wake. Frost leapt effortlessly up that last ridge before racing into that camp several seconds ahead of their opponent. Alexander sat back in the saddle, that single to stop saw Frost's pace slow. His sweat soaked sides rose and fell rapidly with the effort of that run, his nostrils flared, drinking in that air as both riders exchanged that companionable banter. Frost's feathered hooves shifted upon the earth, carrying the stallion towards the nearest water trough before he all but dunked his face into its depths. The equine drank greedily.
Alexander's warning not to drink too much too quickly prompted one ear to turn. Frost was content to take several more large mouthfuls before raising his head. Giving himself a bout of colic, he supposed, would hardly serve their race well. Alexander swung from the saddle a moment later, waving off those efforts to camp nearer their comrades due to Peritas' likelihood to bark in the night. Frost, for now, hardly concerned himself with the puppy. The equine is far more taken with Khan's appearance on the far side of the camp. The Mongolian man eyed them with no small measure of disdain. Frost's head turned back toward Alex, the stallion content to use his rider as a rubbing pole- or seemingly snow- the heavy steed uttered that warning in regards to their enemy as he did. Alexander's efforts to shove him off were met by an equally light shove from the horse in turn. Frost, for once, stood patiently as Alexander undid that saddle and bridle before beginning to set up his tent on the outskirts as the stallion suggested.
The rest of that evening passed in relative ease. There were hardly more than six riders and their horses at that camp and yet the mongolian families cooked enough for what Frost was certain was thirty. That meal consisted near entirely of meat and mares milk- as was the Mongolian fashion- Frost hardly found himself tempted by it. The war horse, in his efforts to keep up that guise as a 'real' horse, remained where Alexander had left him tied loosely to an old, dying tree beside his tent. Frost shifted to stand on three legs, the equine veritably dosing throughout that dinner even if he kept an eye on Khan all the same. That rope Alexander had tied about his neck was distinctly easy to break if he needed. The stallion was determined to watch over his companion even if Alexander could surely take care of himself. Peritas, for his part, had become a sensation at that dinner table. Khan alone refused to pet that puppy as every other being showered it with bits of meat. It was only after that dinner and a bath in the river for both Alexander and Peritas, that the Macedonian returned to their camp.
"Did you bring me any of that mare's milk? I'd like some of that."
Alexander surely hadn't forgotten him, had he? Peritas, in Alexander's arms, was eyed with disdain once more as the macedonian saw to fixing Frost's night rug before heading for his tent with that insistence he stay alert- or at the least provide a distraction for peritas.
"You are not funny, Alexander. You never have been. Goodnight though. I will hear Khan if he comes near us."
Frost shifted to angle himself toward that camp, his violet gaze content to rest on Khan's tent on the far side. He could see the vampire moving about it and yet the stench of him was equally as potent. It was hardly difficult to rest while keeping himself aware of his surroundings, his equine form more than capable of just that thing. Khan, hopefully, had the sense to stay on his side of the camp.