Rumble—
The warhorses trampled the ground, stirring up all the snow on the ground up into the air. The layer of frost on the ground was crushed. The ground faintly trembled while the fifty strong warhorses with the blood of dragons coursing through their veins ran across the land; these tremors gradually increased. The rumbling sounded like an avalanche; of a thousand horses marching forward towards their enemies.
Every single inch they charged meant trampling. Every step they moved forward meant conquering.
It would be like sanctioning the hammer down from high above the sky, annihilating the enemies with unmatchable speed and tranquillity that could usher inner strength.
