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The sun finishes its setting in colors of increasingly vibrant reds and yellows. Blood and puss, both things which both fighters will be tasting and feeling long after the curtains have fallen on this fight. Hard fought, it'll be hard won.
Gossamer stands close by and, as her mouth finds no purchase in its bite, a grunt escapes her throat. She tries to keep up with his movements to minimize them, but mostly just manages to keep herself out of the way of his last bite as it whizzes sloppily by her hide. He must have been tired, for she assumed now it was him conducting the boiling pain, as he aimed the boiling pain at her body again.
It flowed through her worn body like fire and she felt like screaming, but this battle had taken its toll upon her now, so she merely grimaced, ground her teeth, and glared at him. But she didn't budge or flinch away. This was her land, this was her haven, this was a place where horses didn't have to be like him: angry, consumed by lust for battle, monsters for blood. She wasn't going to let him have it and she sure as hell felt like she'd put up a damn good fight to save her home. Oh, but one last thing, she thinks, he needs to at least know the outline of greatness before he plays a word game with it.
"Greatness may be defined in different ways, but it sure as hell isn't measured by how big it makes your balls feel to conquer another. Its measured by how happy those you lead are, and how well they live."
{Closing
Word Count: 281
Goss avoided his bite and grimaced through his weak blood attack, but didn't move away or retreat. She stayed near.}
Gossamer stands close by and, as her mouth finds no purchase in its bite, a grunt escapes her throat. She tries to keep up with his movements to minimize them, but mostly just manages to keep herself out of the way of his last bite as it whizzes sloppily by her hide. He must have been tired, for she assumed now it was him conducting the boiling pain, as he aimed the boiling pain at her body again.
It flowed through her worn body like fire and she felt like screaming, but this battle had taken its toll upon her now, so she merely grimaced, ground her teeth, and glared at him. But she didn't budge or flinch away. This was her land, this was her haven, this was a place where horses didn't have to be like him: angry, consumed by lust for battle, monsters for blood. She wasn't going to let him have it and she sure as hell felt like she'd put up a damn good fight to save her home. Oh, but one last thing, she thinks, he needs to at least know the outline of greatness before he plays a word game with it.
"Greatness may be defined in different ways, but it sure as hell isn't measured by how big it makes your balls feel to conquer another. Its measured by how happy those you lead are, and how well they live."
{Closing
Word Count: 281
Goss avoided his bite and grimaced through his weak blood attack, but didn't move away or retreat. She stayed near.}
