Zandora
I already know I'm going to hell
So at this very point...
It's go big or go home

I am not weak. I am strong. The vixen of onyx's told herself in the early hours of this day. Her life had become uneventful, bland, boring to say the least. She felt as if the darkest of the clouds always seemed to find her, never allowing the rays of happiness to shine through their canopy of blacks and greys. Zandora once had been strong, she had not let the crippling hands of the world do what they do best; cripple. Now, the times had changed and those very knarled, twisted, hands had woven themselves around her heart, her mind, with a needle and thread of destruction. Even with shields of thick calloused layers and denial, Zandora had absolutely shattered at the metallic needle's touch. She was reduced to a mere body, the flames, and fires that brought Zandora to life becoming barren and iced over. Not much had changed, she was still lost in a world that she did not belong in, but at least the warmth of flames licked and heated her barrel. This world was for those who had mastered its cruel ways, and even as a daughter of a devil, Zandora still felt as if the weights of life was much too heavy for her. Her father's layer with it's raw, torturous ways, had not prepared her for this land, and quite frankly, nothing could. And nothing ever would.

A chilled breeze awoke her from her travels to the depths of her mind. The little sprouts of greens and bright chromes had once again been covered by the bleaching, drowning, white of snow. Tallsun melted from her hooves, time escaping her at speeds that passed her before she even begun to think that the next week was approaching. The Orangemoon weather brought a grey sky and heavy snowing, her tassels becoming speckled with the clumps of snow that gathered on her frozen body. She had traveled to a clearing just outside the basing, the familiar pines of the icy caps to watch her in a spar in this morning.

Pacing back and forth, Zandora warmed her body as the prepared for what was to come. She offered the battlefield for anyone tonight, and the thought slightly scared her. Anyone could answer her, and that left limits and pre-strategizing to the dust of tallsun. This was not going to be like the spar with Ashamin, she would not allow it to reach such heights. The pain, the blood, the cold, all came rushing back to her as she stared at the empty blankets of snow. Forcing herself to shove it away, she blinked, not allowing it to haunt her or to distract her any longer. Sighing, Zandora reminded herself.

I am not weak. I am strong.

Setting: It's snowy, pines circle a large clearing. A gray sky covers the morning sun, and it's pretty cold. The snow is about 6 inches, but is pretty light and fluffy.
WC: 461/800
Timeline: Normal
0/2 attack
0/1 defense
OCC: IIios can have the first attack! Hope this is good :)