They were definitely bonded. The bird and the winged creature were connected spiritually. Tears were beginning to flood through Res's golden orbs. One. Two. Three. Breathe in. The winged creature wasn't attacking, she was simply pulling up in the air and circling around her. So high that there was no way she could reach her. And then, the winged one's sweet voice pulled out into the wind. What did she think would happen? A fight where she would actually get a chance to make a few hits! A fight where she might have actually been able to have something land and hit her mark! But no! The wings were dangerous. But, not dangerous in the way she had thought before Kaj. They were dangerous because they made the entire fight tilted in the one with the wing's favour.

Why doesn't she just give up? Why doesn't she leave the fighting to the big boys? Why doesn't she save herself the scars? Hah! She was already scarred. The tiny mare began to dark around, swirling the mists around her. It should have been disorienting. It should have thrown her off balance. But, with the tears the mists had already started to swim around in her vision so the added movement didn't bother her all too much. "What are you doing here? This is my home! You aren't one of those big boys either - little miss. I have to use my wings so I don't stain my pelt! You say to save myself the scars - but that's all you seem to be doing. I'm already broken and shattered beyond fixing. It's about time my body gained the number of scars my mind has collected over the years." Res hissed, her voice breaking a little as her tears choked her up. But, there was a strength in her words that she herself couldn't place.

For Rowan. For Quil. For Kaj. For Mirage. So that they have something to be PROUD of! Res stumbled back a couple of steps, her hooves instantly knocking up against a few branches. The mists weren't working in the winged one's favor, because the more she swirled it the higher up they went - the more they hid the tiny mare's frame who wasn't graced with the wings. Drop her head, making it look like shame. But the mists were now a sort of comfort. They were hiding her true pain from the world. Four. Grab the branch her feet had kicked. Five. It was thick. It was sturdy. But it wasn't long. Six. Re situate it in her maw so that she could throw it like a boomerang. Seven. Listen as the mare's wing beat harder and focus on the gleaming light of her coat as it remains stationary. She didn't help herself. Eight. Throw her head back. Feel the pull and the searing pain as it yanks on the gash in her shoulder, causing more blood to flow out. Nine. Give it a huge swing, Ten. Let go. Watch as it flies straight up toward the middle of the gleaming light. Instantly, she stepped back again, in the deeper confines of the mist and this time she felt a rock. A larger rock. More energy to throw, but she could pick it up. So, she did the same exact thing, tossing it with no hesitation this time.

What was that? Something about a cliff. Yes, there were cliffs, but not the direction she was moving. They were in front of her and to her right. She was going back and to her left. Another step. Something hard under her footing. The branch she picks up is heavier, but she knows how to carry it. It's much longer than the last one, and she has to balance even more on her fore-end in order to pull herself up. Hollow. Weak. Hell. It no longer matter if she aimed at the wings, the gleaming of her coat was still in her eyes. She rocked back on her haunches, keeping her head low to stay under the mists. And then, she rocketed forward, at the last second throwing her head up and taking a mighty leap into the air, trying to impale the branch into her wing as her eyes lock on the joint of the winged one's right shoulder. Her head was feinted in toward the mare's chest, letting the branch fly true toward her intended target. But, if the winged one managed to switch her weight and position before it reached her then nothing would work. Once her body was starting to fall back to the ground she allowed herself to drop the branch. landing on her forehand, carefully placing herself back into the mists as they acted as a source of comfort. She would fight.

800 words exactly
[3/4]
magic/companions not applicable