There was a budding summer storm on the horizon.
It did not take long until the faintly gray clouds coalesced into a raging beast, a wolf or a lion or some equally threatening predator, charging in for the kill.

It came roaring in around Nymeria like the gods' fury, all black thunderheads and crackling lightning. The sheer force of it, splitting tree trunks and sending streams flooding with torrential downpour, sent her heart into jackrabbit palpitations—and that was without taking into the account the monstrous nature of her magic around her. She belonged to the rain and the streams, the ocean and the tidal pools; she was choked, swamped, by the potential power around her. The pull on her was not like the easy ebb of the tide, or the familiar call of the sea, but a scream for attention, a child's incessant cry when faced with loneliness.

Warm rain splattered and spilled down across the mountains and valleys of her ribcage and spine, turning monotonous black to shimmering sheets of ebony. She vibrated and ached with the keen sharpness of being around so much potential; she lathered herself in need for release, for a way to output the magic raring against her too-tight skin and screaming in her head.

The trees groaned, splintered.
Lilómiel shrieked in cacophonous answer.
Nymeria paced through the darkness.

She stopped, turned her head; her nostrils cusped, quivered. Out she called, for destruction and ruin, for war and magic, for bloody desecration—for a worthy opponent to face in battle.

There was a clap of thunder so loud and terrifyingly powerful that Nymeria’s teeth rattled and her knees trembled. Lightning blistered across the hideous black sky in a convulsion of white and gold, a scorching strike of electricity that lifted every hair on her hide. In low, discordant harmony the trees around her groaned, creaked, and splintered, their voices an alien cry of distress. In the darkness twisted and distorted by the lashing rain, the trees did not seem to be so friendly as in daylight; their branches became old and withered arms reaching for a cruel embrace, and gnarled knots became angry and mocking eyes.
Her skin crawled, but she would not—did not—fear angry trees.

For a minute, the sounds of the storm became less audible than the thrilled pumping of her heart and the blood rushing through her veins. The rain still slashed across the clearing, numbing her flesh and penetrating to what felt like the bone, but there was no thunder to hide hoof beats or breaking branches. Nymeria’s ears pricked forward in sharp silhouette; there was, at the very edge of her hearing, a muffled and out-of-place sound, a frumpy flutter that she intuitively felt more than heard. Her dark eyes narrowed in callous contempt, and a smile split in her lips in a cruel way that was anything but friendly; she scanned the trees, but she did not really think to look up.

In the chaos of the storm she saw nothing, but four eyes were better than two.
Go, she commanded, and from her spine leapt Lilómiel, his wings in time with the rain and the storm. Dark as he was, and moving as he did, he camouflaged well into the shifting shadows and groaning trees. Nymeria, watching his path, decided to keep his furtive grace in mind—his adeptness in moving with stealth would no doubt come in handy for future ambushes.  

Fortunate was she for the red eyes of her companion, because it was he who cried out loud and clear in her mind to beware!

Nymeria’s heart doubled in speed at the warning, and without knowing where she should move or where the mysterious other was, she spun on her haunches in a full 90-degree turn to her right, putting her back up to a massive tree. Her head rose, the curls of her mane twisting and falling out, the thick white band of her sclera sharply visible in the night. It was because of her turn to her right that instead of grazing her spine Rei cleaved through empty air. Lightning struck again, tearing through the heavens in white rage. The sudden and terrible illumination, positioned directly over the clearing, gave Nymeria her first look as her opponent was gliding in to land.

There wasn’t time for a full study in the appaloosa’s build and habits and personality, but it didn’t matter anyways. Nymeria had everything she needed in the first look—that being that the other mare was small and robust with full-fledged wings. It was those wings that would set the tone of the fight; Nymeria must keep her from taking off.

And then the moment was past and the pegasus charged.

It felt like Nymeria was in a dream, being surrounded by the rain and filled up with the power of the storm. It wasn’t a dream, of course—this was real life: so Nym pinned her ears and smiled her wickedest smile and blistered, burned, yearned, to fight, to destroy, to devour. The muscles of her hindquarters tensed—she allowed herself to be run solely by emotion and by want, and she burst forward with eager vigour. Simultaneous to her push off her hindquarters, she thrust her weight into her left foreleg, turning sharply to her right. Instead of Rei being positioned perpendicularly, she was now adjacent to Rei, with her left shoulder at Rei’s left shoulder. Once more Rei attacked only empty air.

There was a shudder of movement; the slight pegasus lifted off her forelegs, reaching at the left side of Nymeria’s neck. She allowed herself but a brief moment of contempt at her opponent’s idiocy before attempting to slam her left shoulder into the smaller mare, putting the whole bulk of her body behind the move. With their difference in size and strength, the grullo hoped to shove Rei off-balance, if not topple her entirely. Simultaneously, Lilómiel dived down from out of the darkness, his jaws ablaze and his face twisted into a demonic mask. He attempted to approach from the opposite side of Rei—to Rei’s right—aiming to make bubble and burn the flesh of her neck, to see her spotted fur char and smoke and go up in flames.

Of all his playthings, fire was definitely his favorite.