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There is a brief moment of clarity; a calm during a savage storm. Flashing memories drive me back to a time when this soul was still a green whelp -- anxious and yearning for a chance to shine. Stand apart from others. There were countless hours of training and aspiring to become as fine a mentor as our General. Azzuen. Long months under the blazing noonday sun gave way to chiseled flesh, not unlike marble. Only by a feverous toil did my prowess rise.

Then there was Kri. She'd favored all yon pleasures of heaven, preferring our privilege to fly, over that of ground warfare. 'Use every advantage,' she schooled and those methods became ingrained. I recall one particular day beneath the orange, blue sky -- how both my feathers and flesh received a lashing, there was no quarter given. Breathless diving and barrel rolling, lunging and speedily withdrawing.

I paled in comparison to her glory.

_____

Teeth fall lower than their intended mark. Instead of hitting the thick tissue of her haunch or thigh, I catch the curved joint of a leg; her right gaskin. Ivory soldiers took the plunge anyway, driving their spears deep into those ivory tendons that bore such noteworthy nerve endings. The limb is quickly jerked from my grasp not a second later, I balk instantly -- (already guessing what would come) having coiled crown inward, toward my chest with every intent to pull as far away as possible when Elsa tried to repay my heartfelt lesson by nearly punching out the same teeth which caused her grievance. With a little luck and no small amount of skill -- my perfect white row escapes mutilation. Yar, but narrowly.

My opponent dives for the ground. I remain above, watching as those heels kick at the air, absent aim or target.

Elsa...

Respect. Yar, she still had mine say true, there was never a loss of it. Yon girl was impatient, bold -- but also inspiring, courageous. Even as Elsa struggled to wrench elusive victory from my grasp, I honored this spar with the promise to school her mistakes... Sadly, she'd soon come to realize that the punishment for a hasty heart, was the same for an unworthy one.

Sand.

I called upon the silver spools within me. Luring them to unwind. Below, off to the right of yon ring, (hopefully out of sight), three oval objects spin up, hanging by invisible strings. They resembled the tips of spearheads and glittered faintly as the sun eclipses them. Their puppet master waits for an opportune moment, and just as those opposing daggers touch down, I jerk yon threads and send the spears flying. Their aim is the right side of her unprotected barrel and neck.

Attack: (3/3)
OOC:
Words: 453