Of all the people to accept her challenge, it just had to be her.

It is strange to think that, prior to the herd meeting, Nyx had always held a sense of respect for the pegasus mare. Any warrior queen is worthy of praise in the eyes of the silver soldier, and Elsa had been precisely that. Although the two women had never conversed, and Nyx had held misgivings about the Icebound's lack of activity, she'd certainly never objected to the other woman in the slightest.

Funny how things can change.

Now, as the ironheart looks at her foe through narrowed eyes, she can only remember the sheer immaturity shown by the fallen queen during the meeting. Her words had been the infantile ramblings of a spoilt child, self-satisfied and determined to cover up her multitude of failings with a poor attempt at biting sarcasm. Of course, Nyx herself certainly wasn't blameless - after all, she'd been the one to start all the drama in the first place - but Elsa's reaction had been deeply concerning. She hopes an apology will be forthcoming, but something in the Icebound's posture tells her not to get her hopes up.

A shame. They will have to settle their differences through Nyx's preferred medium, then - battle.

Dominus hands the glass spike over without complaint, whilst his bonded's icy gaze begins its initial judgement of their opponent. Elsa is slightly larger than Nyx, although Nyx thinks her draft heritage will lend her marginally greater strength. The former queen's wings also hand her a distinct advantage - the General hates fighting pegasi, given their irritating ability to take off into the sky at the slightest provocation. The glorified chickens are an absolute pain in the ass to defeat; overall, Nyx's assessment tells her that it is going to be a close fight, undoubtedly made even harder by the glass spikes they're having to use.

Her own glass weapon feels out of place in her mouth; she rarely uses outside aids in battle, feeling that her horn, magic and lion are quite enough. She only hopes that Elsa will be similarly inconvenienced by the spikes, and adjusts her own between her teeth. The fog doesn't pose too much of an issue - the two mares are close enough that visibility shouldn't be lost - and the ground is fairly even, a worthy battlefield.

She returns the Captain's small bow, her face impassive and eyes hardened to stone. The pegasus begins her assault, and Nyx stands ready. Her muscles are tense and quivering, her gaze fixed on Elsa whilst Dominus snarls ominously at her heels. As her foe nears her, the General flings her weight to her right, but she's not quite fast enough; Elsa's glass spike slashes a formidable wound into her left shoulder, spurting blood in rivulets down her foreleg. A hiss of pain slips from her clenched teeth and her shoulder erupts with agony, the gash not quite muscle-deep but certainly biting through a good few layers of tight grey flesh. She takes a moment to spare a sympathetic thought for any poor bastards who will one day impale themselves on the Edge's magnificent glass spikes; if a small spear to the shoulder hurts so damn much, she can't imagine how a sudden spike up the asshole might feel to any potential intruders.

Shifting her own weapon so it pokes out of the left side of her mouth, Nyx swings her head violently to the left in an attempt to stab her opponent hard in the left side of her neck. She doesn't aim for the jugular - she hasn't got murder on her mind - but hopes to cause considerable pain to the Icebound with her glassy weapon. Simultaneously, she flicks her left forehoof forwards in an attempt to crunch it into the cannon bone of Elsa's left foreleg; she doesn't try to break the limb, but certainly hopes to badly bruise it.

Meanwhile, the Icebound's zephyr companion dives towards Dominus, who stands ready and waiting; his rage radiates into Nyx's mind as the bird slashes at his face, creating a series of small cuts that narrowly miss his eyes. The moment Edgar's talons touch his face, Dominus lunges powerfully upwards, attempting to wrap his forelegs around the zephyr to try and drag him down to the ground and hold him in place. His claws are unsheathed, hoping to rasp deep into bird-flesh, and his jaws also lunge upwards to try and sink his savage teeth into the creature's chest.

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@Elsa

Set in the Edge during a quite foggy morning.

1/3 - 749 words