They called him Sombrero and he was the baddest of the bad from south of the border.
Many had tried to stay astride his explosive bulk only to find themselves a broken and bloodied heap in the dirt. For his brothers it was enough just to rid themselves of their arrogant cargo, but for Sombrero it was about that triumphant moment when he felt his powerful hooves connect with fragile bone and heard their agonizing screams of defeat.
He gave a ferocious snort, his massive heart pounding with anticipation, as yet another foolish challenger lowered his body into place.
For a split second the crowd was still, and then the gate burst open.
From the prompt “sombrero” at Five Sentence Fiction.