Tactical retreat?

He turned from the pool, forcing his legs into motion. Distance — that was the first rule. A beaten colt withdrew before the next blow. Regroup, recover, return with strength.

But the body betrayed him. Hooves sank into the sand, steps heavy and uneven. His head bobbed low with each lurching stride, his tail flicked without command. No stride of a knight, no bearing of a man — only the clumsy gait of a beast that did not know itself.

The stallion’s head snapped up. A low rumble rolled from his chest, not fury but warning, a sound that pinned Macius harder than iron. He froze mid-step, breath rasping.

He had meant to retreat with honor. Instead he stood, tethered without rope. The stallion clearly didn't plan on letting Macius leave.

This... was weird.