The edges of my vision are blurred, yet I can still focus as the face of the bastard mocking my crumpled form arrives.  His face is gaunt, his color like a ghost, and not like her's just a moment before.

Instead his pale eyes and pale face and fucking annoying expression dig into my psyche, making the ragged breathing in my chest feel more painful than before, and the ache in my shoulder rage.  My eyes burn through the glassy grip of death, no longer holding the resolve to appear cool or collected in front of this ass.

Now, as you may or may not know, it is generally considered unwise to speak rudely to someone when you are literally standing halfway in a grave.  However, I have never been wise.

"Fuck off," a pointed statement rushes from my lips, but with dehydration settling into my dry mouth, the dark edge is dulled and listless.  The meaning of the words are still quite stark, so my meaning is sure not to get lost in the tiredness of my tones.

A coughing, wheeze of a laugh escapes my lungs as he seems to believe I care to see the rest of this god forsaken Helovia.
Twisted, a smile appears on my lips, my expression turning back from a fire to one cold as ice, feeling the chill of the air grip my fevered flesh and send shivers through my body unwillingly.  My ears pin back against my head in a show of defiance.  "I don't care about your Helovia, or your damn faked concern."  My voice quivers with the shakes of my body, and I bring my wings to settle close to my body to enclose some heat, revealing the ugly gash on my side.

Then, I notice it.  The glint of scales in the mane of this fucking guy.  Who the hell keeps the company of a snake?
Yet, here I am, unable to move a god damn inch off the ground to get away from this freak.
Fantastic.  Just my luck.  Maybe I should have let Daa'hn skewer me like a pig with his horn back there.

My eyes narrow into hard slits as he moves around me, pale eyes seeking something on my skin.  Maybe, this bastard would end my misery here, or maybe he wanted to poke more fun at the dying man in a strange forest.

"If you are going to stare at me, at least do so where I don't have to look at your ugly ass," the combative words ooze from my tired mouth, and lay my head to rest upon the soft loam under my frame.  I am exhausted.
Even just talking to this stranger wears upon me.
Fuck, maybe I really am dying.

My eyes close for a brief moment, the flash of a smiling face on my eyelids, forcing them back open.  Gingerly, my hooves begin to kick at the earth.  Ungracefully, I swing my barrel attempting to get momentum on my side, my wings beating to give me lift.  I force my aching limbs to stand, holding the mass of my muscled body precariously.  I am still shivering, but at least now I am standing, and I turn my head in disgust toward the pale stallion and his snake.

Revived, at least for the time being, I stand as a rather flimsy piece of paper while glaring at my company.

""