My ass connects with a rough shove onto Aryel's body, and I feel her slide from me, pushed by the force of my attack. I smile. There is no greater pride than the thrill that shakes in your bones as your attack goes smoothly, sending your opponent a confident, silent message that you are in full control. Of course, I could not entirely control her actions, but if I could manipulate my own movements, perhaps my strong will and finesse could cause her to fold to my skill. I had no need to injure this mare, but I could still present to her the poweress I contained, teach her how to cope with it. If Aryel was a fast learner, she may soon become a test of my skills versus a presentation. When that day came, I would smile with foolish glee and welcome my new opponent.

For now, a slap in her face from my wings is the closest she will get to a pat on the back from an impressed mentor. The scrape of teeth against my hip are deterred from any damage by the swift "fwhap" from my feathers. As my wings lower, I hear the click of teeth as the grasp on air, and a smirk crosses my face momentarily as my hooves lift easily from the red dust of the desert, my body taking hold in the air and rising quickly in altitude. More confident in the sea of air than the hard floor of the earth, the sky was my home. The open expanse of the red desert stretching out before us like crimson tides was fitting for me, if only because it allowed for an unmarred blue sky, rarely the home to clouds. Bright blue and a white sun, just like in the picturesque daydreams of a summer sky - the home I truly wanted to claim was mine.

My reverie about the sky is short lived, for Aryel has joined me, the whistle of feathers cutting air heard in my ears. I look about, dark eyes finding the figure above me, her posture exuding a nervousness I had not felt in years. I could be imagining it, though, but maybe if I was still a novice fighter, I would be intimidated facing the Leader of my home. When I remember my attitude as a young filly, however, I reconsider. Mostly likely I would be the same cocky ass I am today.

Aryel's wings fold and I prepare myself, immediately increasing my speed and tilting my wings to allow my body to rise, as though I were surfing up the face of an invisible wave. The mare's hooves are not entirely escapable, hooves meeting the flesh of my right flank as she soars downward. With one swift jerk of my back legs, I reach backward toward her passing left barrel, continuing on my forward and vertical path. Because of the opposing forces of my own movement and our close proximity, the attack would do little damage, regardless of the force I put behind it, but perhaps a swift kick to the ass would teach her to avoid the backside of her opponent, even when airborne. I continue to curve upward, turning upside down, my blonde mane and tail reaching back down toward the earth as I move back downward. Instead of completing my full circle, I move downward, toward Aryel.

Dropping like a stone for a few seconds, before shooting my wings back out like a parachute. I slow, attempting to hold myself to the left side of Aryel, wings aiming to be placed a mere foot above hers, crossing them at an angle and making a strange, flattened 'X' from our wings. My teeth reach out for the crest of Aryel's neck, grabbing for a chunk of mane at best, not wanting to draw blood from this girl.


[ 2/3; WC: 672 ]