I had a mouth full of horseflesh and he was screaming again and some piece of me on the inside squirmed around uncomfortably with his obvious pain and terror that I was causing—but it was such a small part compared to the exhilaration I felt with the taste of horse-meat in my mouth, the elation I felt with the pain and terror I was laying on him so thickly. It could’ve been confusing, all these conflicting feelings sort of having a one-sided brawl in my head—but it wasn’t, not really, because battle was action and I was acting and he was acting too….somehow, and that’s all that mattered and that’s all that was needed for the world to be right for a little while.

He yanked away from me and I tried to hold onto him, to jerk his skin a little like the rabid bitch I wanted him to think I was obviously was—but his panic was stronger than my crazy and he had a big neck too, all broad ‘n shit, so it was hard to keep my teeth clamped as tight as I wanted them to be. He finally snatched himself from my grasp and I tried to reach for him again before he got too far away—

--WHAP!!--

--but suddenly there was this great huge wing flapping down on the side of my head, clipping my right ear and temple with the heaviness of feathers and the force of a frightened chicken kid. I wasn’t expecting it and it came from nowhere so when the wing came down on me—well. Yeah, I’ll admit stars erupted in front of my eyes for some seconds and there was a ringing in my head from getting dome rocked and I stumbled just a little bit—just enough for the bro to squirm his way out of reach of my teeth.

But he wasn’t done; for all the flailing he was doing to get away from my terrifying presence, he was bound to land a few blows, and this guy happened to luck out with landing them all. Because I was too stunned and dazed to keep up with his movements and see the hooves sailing towards me—

--CLACK!!--

--before it was too late.

Still not sure how the bro didn’t hit me square in the teeth, because he was close enough to do it and I wasn’t prepped to defend against it anyway. What he did end up kicking was the right side of my neck, a little ways below my ear—and my cheek that had been turned somewhat away from him, a perfect target to slap the fuck out of.

WHAP, his hoof said against my face, and your laughter died in my mind. It was quick and hard and ugly and it was a good thing I wasn’t braced for impact because my jawline probably would have snapped if there had been any more force applied. What ended up happening was that he hit me and I fell away from him, thrown to my left with the force of the double-hoof kick. Once upon a time I would have fallen over—but my fight-instinct was practiced enough to attempt to keep me on my feet, to dance to the left to absorb the shock of the blow while I waited for all these stars to recede. Ow, ow, fucking ow my face and head were a mess. Maybe the bastard did break my jaw after all—or maybe I’d just have a gnarly bruise there stretched across the whole right side of my head.

Didn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking about that; I wasn’t thinking. Once my eyes stopped whirling they snapped towards the kid’s ass that still faced me, like he was running away. But we were well passed that point; the residual laughter in my breast was burnt to a crisp against a bubbling, frothing mass of stuff spewing up from my stomach, while that one little voice of protest against my tyranny was suddenly silenced, defected and assimilated into the general army of my impulse. It’s all fun and games until someone makes a head shot.

Now I was pissed.

“Hit me again, I dare you!!” I roared at him—an honest to god roar that was even darker, grittier, and infinitely more fiery than the theatrical bullshit I had spewed before. As if on cue, the sparks began to dance in my eyes and the air sizzled in front of me and from my horn burst a thicker, angrier bolt than the one I had spewed before—aimed straight for the poor bastard’s fleeing asshole.




[W/C: 777
P/C: 3/3]



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