A fierce, shrill whinny eluded her lips, a declaration of the swivet that suddenly overcame her mind. Tapered claws sunk into the thick, warm fibers of her flesh, the beast's whetted daggers piercing and separating the skin with sickening ease. Thick, crimson beads of fluid arrived at the surface of the lesions; a long series of gashes prevailing across her nape where the creature's claws had failed to initially grab hold. It succeeded upon another attempt, however, it's sharp, aptly pointed incisors gnawing at the sensitive tissue.
Her mind swirled with the thought of the life that grew within her womb. If she were to lose her child due to this, as some result of the trauma or stress, or perhaps the amount of blood loss - if such a thing was even possible - she would never forgive herself. She'd be damned if she was to allow this thing to kill her. It was not about to claim her life, let alone the life of her foal, who was just as much Azzuen's flesh and blood as it was her own.
Below the surface the jugular pulsed incoherently, protected by layers of sarcoid roughages, though it was there, none the less. The feline's proximity to the artery was unsettling, inspiring even further fear to swell within her bosom. In a fit of rebellion she trashed wildly, snorting with rage and anxiety all the while. The whites of her cyan eyes were clearly visible as they strained to focus upon the predator that clung to her imperatively. Her left wing fought against the creature, striving to unfurl as the other appendage had. A group of downy plumes had become detached from the base of the appendage, careening downward as an ensemble of cerise striations marred her side from the withers to the bulges of her ribs.
Her wings unfurled, she leapt into the air, absolved from the bonds of gravity by a few feet until her fore-hooves reconnected with the sand below, producing an aureate spray. Why had she not flown away, you ask? The pain was potent, the nerves screaming with ache. The mountain lion had revived an old affliction: her broken wing. The helplessness she felt in accordance with this realization egressed upon her as violently as a bullet taken to the cranium - or so the analogy seemed fitting to her. That she was anchored upon the loorien, barred from utilizing the natural gifts that had been endowed upon her from birth only drastically narrowed her chance of survival.
She had managed to rid the cougar from her bodice, but she knew this ordeal was far from over. A desperate carnivore would be hard pressed to back down against what it had deigned as suitable prey - this she was aware. The mere fact she had been esteemed as another being's food was somewhat daunting, but such a thing mattered little at the present moment. What mattered now was defending herself; making it out of there alive. Even though it was placed at a slightly more vulnerable position, beneath a much larger animals hammering, sheathed feet, it still posed a great threat to her life and the fetus.
With laborious breaths, her hooves lashed out with what she hoped was fatal precision. With a useless flight appendage, hanging there limp and useless, blood trickling from her assemblage of wounds, she could do little more than fight for her life.
She found herself pleading inwardly to the stars. If only the sun did not reign, then.
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