The magic leaves Ghost’s body and she feels a new sense of weariness creep over her, adding to the arduous wounds that plagued her body. Though some satisfaction is felt when the roan stallion begins to laugh, she presumes his attention had gone and her moment to take the rug from under him, also, had come. She watches him limply trot over, admiring his physique and waiting for that mirthful expression to change when he realizes the ominous sky that was approaching. It was difficult to maintain the flow of her magic, her body shivering in painful effort as she focused solely on the stallion in front of her, willing him to see the dreadful red that burned. The only thing she regretted was that the storm she sent forth was not real, she could not taint the rivers crimson, it was an illusion and there for a fleeting moment. She had yet to learn how to use it in battle, but she hoped the rain would give her an advantage her battered body sorely needed.

She frowns when he stops as if alerted to something, her bondless mind in the dark as to how such intimate intricacies worked and then his face contorts into something familiar. Pain from an assault not all together there, not real and it hurt. As soon as the onslaught began she drags her mind away from the process of illusion magic, allowing it to ebb away in its own time and onto the task before her. Muscles tense in preparation for retaliation, the hurrah that surely would end their enjoyable and yet painful skirmish. Perhaps she would finally learn his name, the wild hulking stallion that attacked her with such relentless force and screamed crude words at her. She laughs at his shout, however, and found it has a pleasant, satisfying ring to it. Repayment for the stinging burns on her back, though her own wound would last much longer than any imaginary one this feral roan would think he receives. The banshee hopes the memory would last longer.

He barrels towards her and Ghost moves into a disjointed, injured looking canter away from the tree. Her trap had been triggered and she no longer needed to play the part, the illusion was not meant for her after all and it was time to end this fight without earning any more injury. Though with the charging roan and the possibility of being burnt to ash, Ghost held her breath and prayed she would be quick enough to evade their vengeful onslaught.

The sprite flaps down her wings, the less wounded of her limbs, and drags herself upwards away from the assailing stallion and the fire-breathing reptile. Feeling a little cowardly as she did so, sensing the rushing need to find the exit door and tend to her wounds before they came even more numerous. Flames explode from the bronze creature, missing her just as she climbed higher into the sky, but close enough that she could feel the heat on her belly and her eyes wince at the thought of even more burns. Real burns.

"You burned me first" she mutters back to him.

The earth calls her weary self and she glides back down, landing in a rather ugly fashion that lacked all grace and wincing at the bouncy trot that carried her forwards until the momentum slowed when finally she came to a halt in front of the tree she had created her trap with. "Let’s end this here" she breathes heavily, holding herself and her injuries in awkward pain, ushering the boy to come out of hiding. "It is not real, my magic is a mere trick" her breathy voice hoarsely laughs as she regards the spotted male and his troublesome bronze reptile. Her thoughts turn and she decides they were a handy combination that would be useful to have in a raging battle. Perhaps a word or two of crashing waterfalls and a regiment of warriors would sway the red-eyed beast to put his skills to purpose.

For now, she plots his uses in her mind and waits to see if he would relent.