He flinched at the sound of the voice and struggled back to his hooves, looking up at the unforgiving visage of Bright Lance. “DUELING RING! CLAW PRACTICE! NOW!” Bright Lance shouted. Blueblood hesitated, matted down with dirt and freezing from the early morning soak in the river. How did Bright Lance even get here so fast? A hoof cupped him over the ear with more force than the prince had been expecting, and he complied with the order, his face a fearful mask as he ran across the muddy expanse to the barracks.