Her sides heaved as the pain crept it's way along her body, it was as if her bones were on fire, each breath stinging as she breathed smoke and blood.

She watched him wearily, head low and eyes glinting with defiance as his gruff voice fills the rapidly cooling air. It's all Orithia can do to not bear her teeth at him, to snap that if he so much as touched her again, so much as thought of defiling her with his primitive body that she would see him skinned alive. The rage was a living thing, breathing deeply where she could not, rushing through her body and giving her strength where she had none. Yet, the rage was not aimed at the stallion for his victory, no, it was aimed at the lust in his eyes.

It was aimed at the very notion that she would ever bend to a stallion again.

Yet, as she watched, the violence seemed to drain from the brute, leaving behind self assurance and a sort of brutal beauty that the pale woman could not deny. He spoke once more, offering her escort and the promise of safe arrival within the Egde's borders, within Tembovu's borders. The majority of the mare wanted only to hiss and shake her head, refuse any offer borne of pity or otherwise from this great behemoth, but, though she was loath to admit it, the pegasus warrior was all but crippled from her injuries; she didn't have much of a choice but to accept the offer.

It felt as if it had taken the very cosmos to move from her place pressed against the tree, her entire body burning and stinging and screaming at her to stop stop stop moving. Gritting her teeth and taking as deep of a breath as she could manage, Orithia stepped forward, toward the still-nameless victor and nodded. "I must warn you," her voice was rough and wheezy, the pain of speaking nearly washing away all other senses, "Though I am a warrior of the World's Edge, I do not know how you will be received. It is clear..." She paused, forced to catch her breath in shallow gasps and blood flecked sighs, "...Clear that I am injured, I do not wish harm upon you from my brethren but I cannot control their reactions."

Only a half-lie, she thought to herself; she wouldn't have minded all that much if the skull-faced rogue wandered home with a few more bruises courtesy of the World's Edge.

Hobbling slowly closer, wings beginning to droop, Orithia stood beside the towering figure of the stallion and carefully, painfully, lifted her right wing, a silent request for the male to assist her in walking. "I am Orithia, and I will admit, I am grateful for the opportunity to spar such a skilled opponent. You did well."

Though the words tasted bitter upon her tongue, the woman gave credit where credit was due.