The Akel-Teke, as Frost had suspected it might, took a near genuine effort to attempt to pass. The gelding was not only a serial placegetter in that race, but had won it previously. He and his rider were nothing short of experienced. That small, weedy creature was, by Frost's own opinion, distinctly unremarkable in appearance and yet even he was willing to admit that the animal's abilities far outweighed its otherwise obscure look. It was not difficult to see why Alexander had favoured that breed of horse so much. It reminded him distinctly of his own beloved Buchapalus and more so- it was near perfectly designed to tirelessly travel mile upon mile. To pass that animal and bring themselves into first place had taken distinct effort. Alexander asked only more and more of Frost in turn until they finally managed to steal that lead one day out from the finish line. This was a level of fatigue Frost was near certain he had never known before. His very legs ached by the end of the day. His muscles were tired. Alexander, he knew, would never ask from him more than he believed Frost was capable of giving and yet, in turn, his companion had never before asked for this level of effort. Frost, for the first time in the entirety of that race chose to make his bed upon the earth itself that night. The heavy, snow-coloured stallion waited only so long as it took Alexander to remove that saddle and brush the sweat from his flanks before Frost eased himself down onto the soft sand. The equine content to spend the majority of the evening resting upon his side. That night, however, went far too fast for the stallion's liking. He had, he was certain, closed his eyes only a matter of minutes before the bright dawn threatened to at the inky night. The sky grew lighter and lighter as Alexander- ever the early riser- began to dismantle his tent. Peritas, in turn, seemed to be nothing short of exuberant. That creature had far too much energy for its own good- Frost was certain.

The war horse, this morning, made no effort to pester Alexander to share his breakfast as he often did. Frost instead content to relish in those final minutes of sleep he might be offered before the Hunter so finally coaxed him to rise. The equine, despite his tiredness, was entirely willing to pull himself to his feet that final time. His own desire to win, after all, was distinctly potent. Frost nothing if not distinctly competitive in all he did. That Alpha blood, even now, so hardly cooling even if he was certain he had never desired more sleep in all his life. Frost stood near obediently for Alexander to fit that saddle and bridle a final time. Peritas was lifted up into the saddle before Alexander himself. The hunter too, appeared nothing short of tired after so many days within the saddle. That race had taken its toll upon them both. It was the sound of that final bell that prompted Frost to swing forward and into his usual canter, the stallion's long stride eating away at the plains beneath them. They were so close to that finish line now. As soon as they rode over that distant rise they would be able to see it. It was very near midday before the trio finally slowed. Alexander, seemingly comfortable with their lead, was content to allow Frost to drink from the fresh, cold stream they had come across. Peritas, equally delighted, splashed about in its shallows as Alexander took his feet from the stirrups, letting them dangle as he stretched his own legs- his free hand stroking the nape of Frost's neck in a rare gesture of affection Frost found distinctly endearing as he rested.

Alexander reached to pluck Peritas from the ground once more, lifting the puppy into the saddle before drawing up those reins. Frost, over the course of that race, had become used to Alexander's near subtle touch upon those reins. The Hunter so barely had to lift them upward before Frost's head rose in readiness, the equine turning to face the direction of that finish line. They merely needed to ride up that final hill, down the other side and across an open plain to reach their destination. They were, at last, painfully close. It was a sudden distant and yet rapidly approaching sound however that prompted Frost's ear to swivel towards it. The breeze that lingered around them carried upon it an undeniable scent. Another horse. Impossible! Frost had no sooner announced that very thing then Alex moved to swivel within the saddle- just in time to see Khan and his sweat-soaked dun stallion fly past them. How the animal had made up so much ground Frost hardly knew. Khan, surely, had pushed the steed well beyond its limits with no sign of slowing. That idle wondering, however, was abruptly ceased by Alexander's heels at his side as Frost hurriedly leapt after their competitor in an effort to chase it down. Alexander lent easily forward in the saddle, taking as much of his weight off Frost's back as possible. Peritas, in turn, was forced to nearly squish agianst him and yet the puppy seemed to adore that feeling of win in its face as Alexander urged the equine onward to make one final effort.

For several moments Frost was nearly inclined to forget his own tiredness as he lunged after that other horse. His hooves struck at the dry earth, Frost rapidly gaining speed until the heavy draft stallion was near flying across that open expanse. How quickly his legs began to ache agianst that demand for speed. This, by far, the fastest pace they had travelled in the entirety of that race and yet Frost, at last, was beginning to gain on that dun stallion. Both equines hit the base of that final hill in near the same moment. Frost's longer, wide stride rapidly began to eat away at that distance, drawing ahead of the dun even despite Khan's urging. Frost crested that hill first, leaping over it and down the other, distinctly steep side. Horse and rider forced to change from that powerful, upward gallop to something more controlled, throwing their combined weight backwards. Frost, so unfortunately, having far more weight to hold back- the draft stallion forced to slow to make it down that hill intact as the far lighter mongolian pony once more took that lead- the dun reaching the base of the hill and racing forward onto that plain two strides ahead of Frost himself. That flat ground however, was all that separated them from the finish line now. Alexander's hills pressed to his sides again, the Hunter leaning forward once more as Frost's stride extended again, the snowy stallion making every effort to chase down that dun once more as little but the sound of beating hooves filled that air. The two horses, once more, drew level. This, Frost was certain, was the fastest he had ever run in the entirety of his life. His legs ached, his lungs all but screamed at him to stop and yet he could feel the body heat from the dun beside him, that pony was equally, if not more exhausted- and yet still it refused to yield.

Frost's own ears pinned backward and into the depth of his plaited mane, the heavy sound of his breathing seemed to increase ever so slightly. The war horse threw the very last of his energy into that run- his head alone managing to draw ahead of the dun stallion- that finish line in sight. Both horses side by side as the cheers of the gathered crowd rose within the air. How oblivious Frost was to those gathered people. The stallion hardly cared. His thoughts focused on that desperate gallop as Khan's shouts echoed within his ears. The Mongol desperately trying to urge his exhausted steed onward as Frost, in those final moments began to draw further and further ahead. A head, a neck, a shoulder- a body length ahead. That dun stallion was rapidly beginning to fade, the scent of something...metallic seemed to permeate the air as Frost all but threw himself over that finish line, the dun stallion racing over it barely a second later and yet so distinctly in second place. The roar of that crowd seemed near deafening and yet how far away it sounded. Alexander's heavy breathing seemed to mingle with his own, the hunter forced to pull back on those reins to bring Frost to a halt. His lungs burned with that effort, his legs felt almost...numb in the wake of it, his heart raced within his own ears and yet how glorious that victory felt.

Frost was aware, in that moment, of Matteo reaching for his bridle as Alexander and Peritas swung from the saddle- that crowd rushing towards the Hunter- locals and media alike desperate to see their winner as Matteo moved to lead Frost away from that group and towards the waiting team of veterinarians. The stallion, this time, was far too exhausted to argue agianst being prodded and poked by that team of humans. The race, after all, would be declared void if Frost himself was deemed unfit by that expert team. That victory hinged upon Frost's own health and fitness. Matteo was quick to answer the questions of those vets, the Frenchman content to lead Frost in large, wide circles- keeping the stallion moving to prevent his muscles cooling too quickly after that run. It was several more long, agonising moments before those vets nodded. That team was seemingly satisfied with the stallion's health. That victory was officially assured. That cheering seemed double as Matteo led Frost further from that crowd that all but swamped Alexander and Peritas. The French Fae so finally, finally offering Frost that bucket of water he was assured he wanted to all but drown in. "Ah, not to much Mon Amie, a few mouthfuls only for the next few hours- you will get sick and Alexander will murder me"

It was very near an hour later that Alexander was finally released from those locals and media to return to Matteo and Frost himself. Several more photographs were taken of Alexander and Frost together. The Hunter awarded that traditional Mongolian saddle and bridle, along with a check for that victory- before that small group was so finally afforded several moments alone. Frost's nose extended toward his rider then, the stallion nudging at his companions pocket in clear search of....something as Alexander and Matteo discussed whether or not it was acceptable for Matteo to make no mention of the wings he knew Frost had possessed before that race. It was only the sound of an approaching person that halted that argument, Frost forced to cease his search of Alexander's pocket to eye the veterinarian who led the dun stallion towards them. With that saddle and bridle removed Khan's stallion looked even smaller. Its bloodied withers from Frost's own attack had crusted over and yet the blood that ran from both nostrils explained that metallic scent Frost had noted in the last strides of that race. Khan had pushed that equine well beyond its limits. The veterinarian's words reached towards that group then. "Alexander? Do you have any want for this horse? His rider no longer has use for him. Unfortunately he was deemed unfit at the end of the race, he has bled into both lungs, he will never stand up to heavy exercise again and because of that the locals won't take him- even with an offer to geld him. We can't turn it loose, it isn't well enough. We will humanely put it to sleep if you have no want for it."

Khan, it seemed, had all but fled- abandoning that all but ruined horse in his wake. Frost's own ears pinned backward, his thoughts pressing to Alexander's own mind in that moment.

"Tell them you don't want it."

Frost, it seemed, held little sympathy for his broken comrade. That little horse so surely deserved better- that he was willing to admit and yet Frost, in that moment, was distinctly content to believe the creature would be far better off put out of its misery. Alexander, however, seemed inclined to glance towards Matteo. The Frenchman readily scowled as he reached forward to run a hand over the dun. "I still have the last two horses you sent me, Alex. Eating my food and doing nothing to earn their keep while they recover. Do you really mean to give me a third? Ah, sacrebleu! I don't even know why I ask. Oui, we will take it- but if it gets to any of my pedigree mares, Alexander, I am sending the foals to you." Frost's gaze narrowed ever so slightly before the stallion proceeded to turn back to his companion, his interest in the dun stallion all but lost as his nose nudged Alexander's pocket again- that gesture a notable bid for his riders attention.

"I want my sugar, Alex."

Well. Frost, it seemed, had recovered just fine.