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10-02-2012, 05:19 PM
An urgency entered Azzuen's wingbeats, a sudden rush, a surge of fear. He watched TORASIN fall unconscious, watched as the little white dragon who had been trying to aid them in rounding up the little goat AURELIUS returned to her master, and felt like he was passively watching as his attack fell less and less accurate. A thump upon his aching leg informed him that the little goat's final, lashing attack of a bucking kick would not have hurt as much as it did, had it been upon his left leg. But no, the position Azzuen had been in, on the ascent following his swoop, meant that the flailing hooves of the short goat stallion met their mark, causing a resounding shudder of violent, throbbing, sharp pains to be reawakened in the currently useless left limb. It was not broken, but certainly sprained, crushed, battered, the hock joint already swollen beyond the point of recognition. Other aches and pain ailed him, but he was blind to them, he pushed through them. Something required his attention at home, he could feel it, and suddenly, he no longer wished to be a part of this war. Wings, the only thing he had managed to keep unscathed during this entire battle, pushed his athletic build skywards, and he hovered above the battle, watching as the fighters pulled apart, unable to see who the victor was yet. Breaths came hard and ragged, his lungs burned from the residual smoke that was scattered around. He eyed the little goat-stallion from his perch in the skies above, making a mental note to keep track of him. He hoped Xira at home still had a hold of the Doctor, but more than any of that.. He hoped his family were safe at home. Never before had he left behind loved ones to fight for, back when he was a colt it was always his brother, mother and father, fighting together - or for the many years after that, just himself. The urgency to leave did not fade, but he waited, until the verdict was delivered, before swiftly turning his body in the air and heading home.
[360 words. ]
[360 words. ]
