When he felt the impact of his tail against the stranger and smelled the familiar burnt scent--the same one that had come from his own chest and left shoulder before, the same injured shoulder that plagued him now but was at least eased by the cold wet of the rain--he knew he had succeeded. He continued forward as planned with something like satisfaction marking his features. He was doing well, defending himself against a hollow man in the dark. This was what practice had prepared him for, at last he was ready.

Having a second pair of eyes was more than just convenient, it was apparently life saving. As many nights as Ashamin had stayed up in the dark, he was not able to see clearly enough in the thick of this storm. But Lochan, with his bright burning white orbs designed for nocturnal living and his position beneath much of the chaos, could see more clearly.

The haruspex called out to his companion about the kitsune's attack--spotted from the corner of his eye, illuminated by the sparking of his own tesla coil in response to the rain like a lamp at the end of his winding tail--at the same moment that Lochan flashed an image of the confused stranger. In this maze, what was blocked by greenery for one was available for the other to see. They made a survey of unfamiliar territory in tandem. Together, they were a brilliant team.

Their reactions, too, were simultaneous. Lochan leapt forward and out of the kitsune's reach, throwing his legs behind him to perhaps kick the greedy little thing away. And Ashamin was at last able to see the stranger drawing closer as a flash of lightning revealed them all. But the fool was a few moments after the clash of the companions, too slow to beat Lochan's warning and Ashamin's response.

Ashamin slowed to a halt just short of and on the right of where he gauged the attacker might be aiming and reared, his carriage well balanced and his determination fueling perfection. The spongy ground that hosted such strange greenery was something he could sink the dual points of his hooves into, and though it did not offer as much resistance as he would have liked he did his best. His legs curled tightly and his hindquarters were bunched and angled with as much precision as could be mustered. Even in this chaos, he was capable of composure. It was success that brought him such positive concentration--the suspicion that he might win this fight.

"Enough!" the haruspex cried out in the storm, breaking the haunted silence between the two combatants at last. He threw his right foreleg downward in a vicious kick aimed for the spine, keeping his left fore pulled back as his aching shoulder demanded of him. "This is finished!"

And without thinking, without realizing how mortal a strike his could be, the Haruspex attempted to snap his mask-strengthened jaw upon the crest. Only then, once his jaws had shut (whether on flesh or air, he was not sure) with magic, did Lochan come running to find him and did his mask fall away. Only then, in the dark and wet and cold, was the painted buck revealed.

The condensation of the mask forced the water that had welled in its skeletal pits to fall upon Ashamin's features unceremoniously. He received the cold and startling awakening of the water like a slap in the face. He hadn't realized how heavy and painfully his heart had been beating, but now it overtook him. It was a dangerous thud, a repetition of fight for your life, a haunted rhythm that he could not longer ignore. Surely it had been fear and adrenaline that had cast it from him before, but now that he had declared this final strike he felt reality rushing back. The howling winds became all he could hear, the darkness all he could see. He felt his sharp senses fading and an understanding of the situation returning. He caught glimpse of Lochan's spotted form, poking out from the shadows like dazzling points of light.

His features relaxed, his heart fell into the warm and calming step of his companion's. Lochan, his little eye, would save him once again. Without the cerndyr all senses had been lost, all rationality cast away in the wind. His gaze unstuck from the unblinking white of his bonded and he looked with horror as lightning flashed and revealed the shade in a moment when Ashamin could view it with clarity and horror.

Taller than Ashamin, maybe, but younger and no wolf-headed phantasm from the dark: the enemy, he was only a boy.