Run away with me, Lost souls and reverie,
Running wild and running free, Two kids, you and me

The sun's warmth showered them, adding to the sweat that beaded on her flanks. Sides heaved with deep even breaths, and her heart pounded in the cage of her chest. The star girl watched the buck turn from her, but his gracelessness held him captive long enough that she was able to finally meet him. Teeth grazed his prehensile tail, and the faintest taste of blood flickered on her tongue. As her chest pressed into him, forcing him from his spot, her heart raced faster. She didn't spare tenderness on this moment, but what if she had? What if instead of forcing him away, he had been pressing closer?

As he gave way, she stumbled in a missed half-step, though her rhythm was recovered nearly as quickly as it had been lost. Though he managed to break free from her, she worried briefly on how his tail hung so limply. She spat the taste of him from her mouth, hoping his blood wouldn't linger on her tongue. It was only a flesh wound, right? But as Corporal, she denied herself the urge to call out to him, refused to pause their spar to ensure he was alright. He would live, albeit with a sore ass for a while.

Cloven black sank into the permafrost. The topmost layer gave way easily to her steps, allowing her footing to be precise. She propelled herself forward, pursuing him as lovers don't. He seemed to avoid the trees that buried the mountainside, leeching into the open field. She felt relief at that. She didn't know this corner of the Basin. Unfamiliarity with her battle ground could cause worse than just a loss- a severely twisted ankle or broken leg could end the most skilled of warriors. The Basin held many holes and divots in the rock that breeched the surface of the soil. And what did the trees harbor? Though adding a bear to the mix would liven things up, it wasn't a chance she was willing to take. She would keep this fight on flat, solid ground.

She pressed onwards, not wanting the buck to put any space between them. His constant retreat annoyed her, frayed the edges of her enjoyment. She yearned for closeness. Why didn't he face her? Why wouldn't he meet her in a tangle of legs and breath and adrenaline? She was not a tigress hunting for a kill. She was a fragmented soul looking to fill her emptiness with something more. Certainly he wasn't a creature carved from muscle and stone and strength, but no longer was he the meek boy she had met what seemed to be ages ago. He was flourishing despite his imperfections. She didn't need perfect. She needed--

Suddenly and all at once, he had turned and was upon her. She leaned, desperately trying to avoid a head-on collision. He brushed against her before cow-kicking clumsily at her. A hoof caught her ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs. She gasped, eyes rolling, several barking coughs bursting from her gaping maw as she attempted to gulp in air she couldn't hold onto. Her sclera formed vivid crescents around smokey pupils as she watched him go, leaving popping sparks in his wake as his tail hung loosely behind him. Finally the chilled air burned as she drew it in, filling her lungs in greedy inhalations. As she resumed her pursuit, she found herself struggling to keep up. She was nearly spent, and each breath she drew caused pain to shoot across her chest.

What was she even doing out here? As she chased him, avoiding the sparks that trailed him, she wondered who she was turning into. The blue's side burned with every step, and she doubted herself. She was a corporal, a princess of battle, a girl who was destined to become a queen of war. Well, at least she hoped. But not after this. How could she be conquered by a gangly buck who told stories by firelight? He wasn't a warrior. Or perhaps his intentions weren't as clean cut as one could assume. Did he really need to choose one over the other?

As her strides lengthened and she drove every ounce of energy she had left into her bounds, her mind remained calm. Her breaths rattled as she drank deep gasps of warm air, not sure if the pain was from breathlessness or her bruised ribs. She reached for him, knowing that this was her last shot. She dipped her crown, turning her blade towards him, aiming to draw a string of bloody pearls in his hide. It was all she could reach him with, and as she tossed her head, a wave of white splashed in a banner behind her.

But it was no flag of surrender.  

Speech
WC:: 799/800
3/3
Summary: Bruised ribs from his kick, possible fractured rib. Goes get him with her horn and do anything she can, but his endurance is better than hers and she's tiring out. Wasn't sure how to include his magic, but he can hear her heartbeat and interpret it as he'd like!