She was out of her depths here, Erthë felt it with increasing conviction as moments wore on and actions plunged her deeper into this silly game of war. If she had heard Volterra's thoughts there was little doubt that they would have hurt her pride - how was she small and fragile, why did he think he should go easy on her!? - but the truth of the matter was that she had very little to do on the battlefield. Bewildered she watched her big friend and teacher slam on the brakes just before he reached her, no doubt enabling her own silly little pirouette to work beyond what she herself would have managed. Bared teeth that sought the dark elbow of the equine found the hard, swelling muscle of his chest instead and Erthë found her head rattled by the impact, blunt ivories scraping uselessly across the slick skin without finding traction.

What was so excellent about that? It couldn't have hurt, he must barely even feel it! If this was a real fight he wouldn't have slowed down, she wouldn't have evaded, this wound would not count - she would be in trouble, and she would have no idea how to get out of it.

Volterra kept talking, and he kept moving, and it was hard to focus on both at once. Before she had time to process what he had said the girl saw his own bared teeth come flashing towards her face, and like icy water running down her spine she felt fear erupt, born from doubt and failing confidence. It wasn't deliberate thought and active decisions that made her jerk her head back or pushed her up on her hind legs in a rear. It was instinct, reflexes that suggested she ought to protect the face at all cost. But the price for safety in this case proved high indeed; out of nowhere a giant hoof came flying, and as she rose up it clipped her left knee with added force that brought a startled scream of pain from her throat.

"Oooww!"

Black and white light flashed before her eyes, making it impossible to see beyond the blistering agony; Erthë couldn't hear, couldn't feel anything over the white-hot, icy agony that rippled through her body like shock waves. The only thought that flitted through her mind, erratic and barely coherent, was how lucky she was that it hadn't been the other knee.

Pale wings flapped furiously, the desire to flee, to fly, to get away from this game that wasn't really funny so strong it took over for a moment. As she began falling down toward the ground again on the stallions left side the heavy, bony joint of the right wing came flying towards Volterra's head, threatening to smack into his left eye. Simultaneously, her mind lashed out with whatever was most familiar to her; ice erupted all around the small mare as the water around her froze. It coated every strand of grass on the autumn meadow and flew like frosty smoke in the wind, even sought to freeze the very sweat on Volterra's body and the liquid in his exposed eyes.

She didn't mean to do it. Had the sudden pain not brought her nearly from her senses the young cygnet would likely never have used her magic in this situation, realizing it was feeble at best, hardly useful at all. But everything went so fast, and she couldn't keep up. Even when the dancing lights faded from her eyes she could only feel the throbbing pain; not the strong wind that kept buffering against her body, not the billowing grass around her legs or the firm ground beneath her feet.

What had she even been thinking, challenging Volterra like this? It wasn't even fun, it was a stupid game and she was lousy at it!

Go back to your knitting girl, and your books, because cowards don't belong out here.

---

PC: 3/3 + closing def
WC: 659

Summary:  She freaks out and rears, avoiding the bite to the nose but taking the hit to the knee full on. Half-crazy with pain she flaps around with her wings as she come downwards again on Volterra's right side, causing her right wing joint to aim for his left eye. Meanwhile she lashes out with magic, freezing all the water within 15 feet of herself, including the sweat/moisture on Volterra as well.

Erthë

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