Själ

The world had grown quite small for the princess as she imagined that she was dying.

Short gasps for breath did nothing to alleviate the suffocation that bound her chest; so terrified was she of the prospect of death (no, not yet, I'm not finished -) that she did not, at first, realize that her desperation for air have given way to pain.  It seemed quite sudden, the appearance of sharp, intense, agonizing shards of glass in her side; an angry, injured howl erupted from her throat.  It wasn't supposed to be like this - she wasn't supposed to have spilled blood in a spar, and the stranger wasn't supposed to have actually injured the princess!  She was supposed to walk away with scrapes, bruises, and experience - she wasn't supposed to have to limp into the forest to go curl up somewhere and die!

(She was being a little overdramatic.)

Ansgar's triumphant shriek broke through the girl's distraction, and she turned, wincing with each step, to regard the small creature with wonder.  The griffin had sunk her claws, laden with darkness, into the bigger mare, holding tightly as Isopia screamed and writhed in pain and terror.  It was only a moment, but it was enough to distract the stranger, enough for Själ to collect her scattered mind and prepare for the remainder of the fight ahead.  (She wasn't going to die.  She was simply going to hurt, and she had to be okay with that.)  When the griffin's hold on the mare broke, Själ found herself facing the stranger with a mixture of apprehension, respect, and anticipation.

Unfortunately, neither the princess nor her bonded had been paying attention to the dragon.  The former had been watching her own companion, forgetting for a moment that she was still involved in the fight; the latter had been too focused on distracting the stranger to consider her surroundings.  As the reptilian beast approached, the griffin leapt into the air, releasing her hold on the mare and attempting to remove herself from the dragon's range.  Hubris, however, had a flying start - Ansgar could not pick up speed quickly enough to avoid the electricity that spouted from his mouth, and before either she or Själ could think, she had been hit.  One moment, Ansgar was there through the bond; the next, there was only blackness and pain.

Själ watched with horror as the griffin, almost even with the tops of the distant trees, thrashed in midair, her ascent slowing to a breath-taking halt before she began to plummet toward the ground.  Time seemed slow, too slow - and as the unicorn lunged forward, desperate to reach her incapacitated companion, she realized that she would never make it in time.  Ansgar was going to crash, and there was nothing she could do about it.  Suddenly, without thinking, she changed course with a roar, charging headlong at the Mountain with her horn lowered, hoping to repeat her earlier attack.  Stupid?  Yes, absolutely - she telegraphed her movements completely, allowing emotion to overtake her previously logical train of thought.  The princess no longer cared.  Win or lose, she would die to protect her companion, who she imagined to be gravely injured.

The attack on the griffin was, in actuality, rather short-lived; Hubris had directed a quick burst of electricity that was only momentarily debilitating, not meant to kill, or even harm.  As Ansgar began to fall back to the earth, she regained some level of control over her body, using her feline grace to twist so that her feet were facing the ground and stretching her wings slightly to slow her descent.  Though weak and confused, the griffin was able to land relatively safely in a small, unceremonious pile of fur and feathers.  She would not die this day, but tomorrow, she would be quite sore.

Själ was several lengths from the bigger mare when her companion's reassurances broke through her panic, bringing with them an intense sense of relief.  Knowing that Ansgar would be alright lessened the bloodlust that had taken over the princess, and she found herself lifting her horn away from the other mare, no longer wanting to spear her through the heart.  Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision slightly, making it difficult for her to stay on course.  She shifted her trajectory so that she could try to run along the bigger mare's right side, where she could plant her front hooves and throw her back hooves towards the stranger, hoping to kick the right side of her neck.

She just wanted this spar to be over.

"Talk."

Words :: 767
Attack :: 3/3

--Ansgar.--