A murderer's blood hits the air and there is a hiss as fire boils it in an instant. I cannot see Arbutus' claws biting into flesh, but I can hear the satisfactory call of a thousand birds singing at once and know that he has hit his mark. There is a mixture of fear and satisfaction bubbling in my breast as I realize how serious this has truly become. What was once a desire to protect has turned into a need to survive, an order and license to kill. The power and control is intoxicating, the rage building, and the desire to kill...

No, surely it cannot be there. I find myself jostled by the horrifying thoughts that have crept into my mind, and when my hooves fail to strike the dorsal of my opponent, I am unsure as to whether or not I am dissatisfied or relieved. My wings feel disconnected from my body as the flames consume Descaro, and I leave myself open to his attack. His hooves find purchase upon my left stifle, and the daggers tear flesh instantly. The pain is searing and all concentration is lost. As I fall to an unsteady landing, I watch Descaro run.

"Coward!" I cry, speaking out for the first time since the battle has begun. "Your fate will find you, no matter how far you run- You cannot escape your sins!" the cry is chilling, haunted by pain both physical and mental. Pain from my past, from what he and so many others have done. That capacity to kill that lies within any breast, but it is a select, terrible few that ever let it rule them. That is what separates the two of us, what will always make me better than him.

But a monster is a monster- and perhaps I would have let him go simply for that. But it is the unsettling sensation within my gut as the blood begins to flow and Arbutus wheels towards me recklessly before flying out of sight and away from the bloodshed, as I watch Leander await death unexpectedly, that drives me forward.

Every step is brutality. My hocks have never done well on such a land, my legs have always felt weak. Now, with blood draining from my leg at a rapid speed, I find myself further hindered. The world around me feels blurry, the cooling heat of my wings as they flare out odd and uncomfortable. But I do not stop, I never stop.

I come from behind the massive stallion, the strange killer that has haunted me for so long as one of many who wished me dead upon my birth. My body swerves dangerously towards his left flank and my head coils down in an effort to both protect my neck and strike him with my horn. Ideally, I could puncture the tender flesh between the shoulder and the girth, but a weakness from falls and the sound of my own blood falling, falling onto the earth hinders me. Strange how I have never noticed the sound of blood before, strange how in the midst of war cries all I can hear is my own pain.

[[WC: 530 || M/CU: 2/2 (As of last round with Arbutus' second attack) || SUM: Tares is hit in her left stifle by Descaro's hooves and begins to lose blood. She then runs after him, approaching him from behind and aiming for his left girth/shoulder area with her horn pointed down, hoping to puncture the flesh. Blood loss, physical aching of the hocks, and general weakness from her initial fall hinder her accuracy.]]