Too slow, Mortuus, Ashamin thought with dark satisfaction. Lochan darted away from the kick with ease; his nocturnal eyes saw all danger, he was well-evolved to protect itself in these situations. Lochan might not have brute strength, but he had speed.

With Lochan not a concern, the haruspex focused on himself. The warrior's spirit inside him filled him with confidence and allowed him to think about Mortuus' approach rather than the pain along his side. It would burn later, but for now water's cool relief served as a distraction. Watching Mortuus struggle through the water, Ashamin wondered if this was an unfair wager. Certainly Mortuus had once been a fighter (lifelong healers didn't bear such scars), but what if the buck was wrong? If Mortuus was really nothing but a quiet scourge now, was the violence in him slipping away to a peaceful end? Was Ashamin needlessly awakening a dying fury, and returning Mortuus to a state of uncontrollable rage?

The paint examined him, charting every small movement of Mortuus' that he could make out. Long nights of staying awake, staring at the mirror, and learning to look like Lochan had given the haruspex sharp sight. Had Ashamin overestimated him? Maybe Mortuus was stronger but he was no taller and noticeably slower, struggling even more in the water than the seer had predicted.

Guilt, though, would not incapacitate Ashamin. He dug his hooves into the lakebed and barreled forward, parting the water with even strides as he ran as fast as he could back to shore. He did not look back as Mortuus reared, forced himself not to flinch as he thought he heard the snapping of jaws surely meant for his own flesh. If he looked back, he might think about the cruelty of drawing one to where they are weak and abandoning them there, attacking them from outside.

The buck's necklace dragged along the water, leaving a trail and pulling him down as he began to feel its weight. Keeping his tail high was a struggle, even as he twitched its end to loosen the coils. When he reached the shore his body, soaked in cold, felt heavier than ever before. Ashamin shivered and caught his companion's gaze--was given the second he needed to hesitate and question. The knowing in Lochan's eyes was meant to evoke sympathy. The crude dark splatter, the painting his bonded displayed in his mind that was meant to show Mortuus' struggle in the water, was supposed to call for an end. However, the ram-horned stallion that Ashamin still believed to be far behind him had intruded on his privacy, prodded until the buck had no more patience.

No, this was the course of action that Ashamin had chosen, and he would stick to it. Empirically this was intelligent--that to slow down a strong opponent and create distance so they could not reach you was tactically sound--so he would follow it through. For safety the buck took a few steps farther from the lake, then he flicked his tail with calculation.

As the coils slid off of Ashamin's tail and flew through the air, he could have sworn they were moving in slow motion. He watched their golden arc as he would chart the paths of the aurora above, had as much care for its path as he would a child's. The trinket from the watcher was something he held close, but now he had flung it into the lake with every intention of sending sparks through the water and straight for his friend.

Ashamin's heart soared and sank--the magic he had intended to follow the coil fell flat, moving slowly and with resistance. What pulled the power back, regret or shame? Could both afflict him now so heavily as he did what he loved, as he fought and went mad for a chance to keep himself locked away for just one night more? How had this become his greatest distraction, his one hope of keeping himself sane when the sun rose? Was this really a desire to prove himself, or simply an addiction?

His magic flew forth on wings of plan; despite the haruspex's guilt, the electric power could not be stopped and headed towards Mortuus without mercy. This had been his goal: to fling the coil into the water after drawing Mortuus into it and at the same moment to try and dangerously increase his opponent's heart rate. Don't push me, Mortuus would be the message that came with the strike should it all succeed. My bark doesn't even begin to betray my bite.

However when the haruspex turned to look over the lake and watch his plan unfold, he knew he had gone too far. Ashamin could not bear to look back at Lochan, did not need to in order to understand what was waiting for him in those eyes.

Disappointment.

""

there is a design,
an alignment to cry of my heart
to see the beauty of love
AS IT WAS M A D E TO BE