The taste of blood swept over her tongue, the sweetness springing forth as she dragged her teeth along his neck. As she continued forward, trajectory unhindered by his looming form, her heels met him as well. She harnessed the momentum, lunging away from the prince in uneven strides.

An ear twisted on its poll, catching the sound of gnashing jaws aiming for her right side. Eyes rolled, milky crescents vivid against stormy grey, as she looked back to see the kitsune reach for her. She sidled to the left, avoiding pearly white needles, but put herself right into the path of something much worse. Pain erupted upon her left thigh, rippling and burning across her stifle and flank. A haunting scream escaped her, harsh and shrill. The stench of burnt hair filled the air and her skin grew raw and angry. She nearly fell, her left leg refusing to act appropriately, and she slid to a clumsy halt as the unforgiving sand swallowed each step. "Bastard!" she coughed, half snarl and half sob. Nostrils flared, jaws clenched, and she blinked away the tears that brimmed at her lashes.

But not a single tear fell. She wouldn't allow herself to weep like a pathetic filly with a scraped knee. She was strong and sturdy, and despite the voice that encouraged her to give in, to sink down onto the damp shore, to break into a million pieces, she couldn't. She wouldn't. She tentatively stepped down, testing her pain threshold. The muscles quivered, begging to be released from their burden, but they held. She would not be made lame.

The blue lurched forward, resuming her place in this game of cat and mouse. She knew she could be faster, if it weren't for the limp that marred every step, but still she managed to compensate. She reached for him, as he had reached for her, only she had no fire to summon or magic to harness that would sink teeth into his midnight hide. But she had her own jaws, and she already spilled his blood upon the sand. As she reached for his dock or left croup or anything she could grab onto, she hoped for a similar outcome. She knew well that it may also injure her, but she paid no attention in trying to avoid his rear hooves with her fronts. Perhaps she would catch a heel and trip him. She just needed to slow him down and try to even the playing field.

As much as she had no intentions of surrender, her leg was too much. She couldn't chase him or try to escape down the endless shore of the sea. With her leg throbbing as it was, she needed to change her tactic. As she slowed her pursuit, a light flickered on. It was a distant memory, a lesson her father had taught her on turning weakness to strength. A smiled pushed through her pain and concentration, and she stumbled to a halt.

She was not a soft, delicate flower. She was forged of steel and starlight. The star girl had been made weak by her recent distractions, as that was all the painted buck was, and she needed to come back to who she was. Like a phoenix from the ashes, she needed to become what she always had been, and everything she had aspired to be. Before arriving at Helovia's threshold, she would never had been described as warm and gentle and soft. But the war prince who stood before her didn't know that. He didn't know anything about her.

She had a strength that she knew he didn't. An advantage her stallion counterparts could never obtain, but many seemed to fall for effortlessly.

"Oh," she whimpered, clumsily trotting after him as the water beside her churned and rolled. "Erebos, this hurts." Her voice was strained, every fiber pulled taught by pain she couldn't take. Her left hoof hovered above the sand. She looked up towards him, tears welling in softened eyes. She nearly collapsed, throwing in the flourish for dramatic effect. "I can barely stand, that last chase was too much. Please, just wait."

She was a sitting duck lined with explosives. She appeared weak and vulnerable, and indeed she currently was, but she was also cunning. With her head lowered, legs slightly bent, tail flicking lazily, she appeared as though the weight of everything was too heavy a burden to bear. But she was not ready to crumble. She was coiled, ready to spring, a trap waiting to be triggered. Even if her trick failed, she was ready to face him. Even if her ploy was only enough to convince him to come to her, it will have been successful.

And if she failed, at least she was consistent.

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2/3 || WC 797 || Summary:: Ki'irha hears Orsino and tries to avoid the kitsune, instead putting herself right inline for Erebos' bite/fire magic, which causes moderate damage to her left stifle and flank. Chases after him, tries to bite his dock or left leg. Slows down, knowing her injury will hinder further chase, and tries to encourage (trick) him into pausing battle and coming back towards her so she doesn't have to chase him to attack him.