They come together with the stacatto thud of colliding flesh, and Tyradon twists his face in a silent snarl as the impact - despite his best efforts - sends a spasm of pain through his wounded shoulder. But the earth-shattering scream that leaves the woman's lips is enough to smother the momentary agony he feels, although he knows he will be both stiff and battleworn for many days after the conclusion of this particular fight. Bites pepper down on her flanks, ears laced into his mane at the foul taste of her lesser skin against his tongue. His hoof, more's the pity, fails to connect with those frail legs of hers, and he returns it to the snowy ground with a muffled crunch.

She turns, and charges for his left side. Exhaustion and the pain of his numerous wounds ensures he lacks the agility to turn and face her, but he throws himself forwards so only her left antler succeeds in colliding with his powerful flank. The barbs rip into the skin and create a gaping mouth there, a flap of torn flesh that stings in the frigid air around them - he allows himself to step to the right with her movements, rather than bracing himself like a stoic wall of blackened hatred in front of her. Doing so would only allow her to force her horn deeper; moving with her ensures she does not permanently ruin the taut muscle of his thick hindquarters. It still bloody hurts, mind, and coupled with the steady pulses of his right flank he knows he will struggle to walk without a limp for the forseeable future. As a result of his movement forwards, her teeth miss their mark, and he escapes without the sensation of her heavy molars crunching into his leg.

He senses the battle is nearing its conclusion, and his slate gaze shifts to Cynder. She's stirring, and he can feel the first tingles of her mental presence inside his head once again. Like the caress of an old friend, it is a welcome sensation, and he releases the breath he didn't realise he was holding. She is still not fully conscious, though, and he knows he will run to her as soon as the fight is completely finished to lift her onto his shoulders and take her to safety. The area around her is devoid of snow from where her flame-tail scorched it all away, and she's lucky she hasn't set the parched grass alight. He allows his mind to linger with hers, their consciousnesses mingling together as he silently thanks her for the sacrifice she made. Her half-asleep response is simple: "Break horned she-horse, make her scream like prey."

In the name of Nieque, the dragon king hopes he has done just that.

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OOC: Great fight Frostie! <33 Good luck to you too.

464 words

Closing defence