I am young, a tigress of only two. It seems just yesterday I was rolling around the cave with Zima, enjoying being a carefree youngster. Though cursed by the absence of any sort of role model or care giver, both Zima and I did well for ourselves. We worked together to hunt, learning how to take care of each other, and then how to survive alone. But battle, battle itself was a concept unknown before I entered Helovia and certainly it remains a fairly foreign concept. I'm not opposed to it nor am I fearful of it, but no matter my appearance or the reputation of my species, I am as unseasoned at this as a yearling. The only benefits I maintain are my natural weapons: tooth and claw.

But unlike a yearling, I feel the rage of a tigress scorned, of a predator unused to being wounded by prey, of a deep, unfathomable desire for bloodshed that I have yet to see in any foal. Retribution is what I see when my claws extend for the hide of my enemy. My rage blinds me to the weak kick he sends my way. He brushes my hide, knocking me slightly off balance so that I must retract my attack before I can do much damage, if any at all. Did I even strike? I can't be sure and I can't take the time to run some sort of inspection. Against my will, I must withdraw and land back on the ground, off to the side.

Öde roars with rage and bloodlust - the sounds so akin to my own, even if distorted through the voice of a unicorn instead of a tiger. He half-rears, and I watch hesitantly at his momentary suspension. How do I prepare for his next attack? He seems so much stronger than I, I feel so disadvantaged. What do I do? At first I want to turn toward him, to launch at him as he attacks me head-on, but to do so would be to expose my chest and my face. It's poor strategy, so I abandon that plan. Instead, I brace myself and try to step back. I have no long-distance ability to attack, so I must stay within range, even if it means taking a brutal attack.

But this attack is more brutal than I had imagined. The raging hessian makes contact with my body, and I'm lucky that he doesn't spear me like a stuck pig. That horn is not to be underestimated. The tip starts at the bottom of my belly fur and lifts up to the sky, carving my flesh like a sushi knife across a limp fish. There's nothing I can do to stop it, and the only reason I don't lift into the air is because of the two steps away from him that I took at the last second. A howl of pain leaves my lips and I close my eyes as he slices my side. Blood soaks my fur, blurring the black, orange, and white into one mess of crimson. His horn shall drip with my blood, and I wish I had already gotten his blood on my claws as a souvenir. Only my blood drips onto the dirt below, staining it a darker brown, almost black.

The force of the attack shoves me a few inches away: still in range of my enemy; and make no mistake, Öde IS my enemy. This encounter has only enforced my suspicions that there are no friends here the Basin, no easy passes. Like a pussy cat's tail being stomped on by a bratty child, I react on instinct and turn my head, jaws wide to clamp onto the right foreleg of my attacker. Canines unleashed upon the canon bone if he stays within reach, I hope to let loose hallucinations upon the unsuspecting beast. If not that, then I hope to at least start a nice blood flow from those delicate pinions. 'Let me taste your blood at last! Let YOUR blood saturate this good green earth!'

"Speech."