It hurt. All the gods be damned, it hurt! Erthë had thought herself accustomed to pain after the long months she had spent limping around the continent. She'd always kept her head high in stubborn refusal to acknowledge it, unyielding in her desire to keep moving despite the crippling scars. Foolishly she had ingested potent herbs and ridden waves of sweet relief, believing herself to be above suffering as she recklessly gambled with her own life.

Oh, how stupid it had been of her, to not realize that the pain was not an enemy to be conquered, but a guide to highlight flaws and overcome them. At no point before this moment had she been forced to appreciate just how weak she truly was. It was laughable, so obvious now that Erthë felt a sudden urge to chuckle in the midst of the mind-boggling agony. Because, was it not just so ridiculous!? There she was, tiny and frail and limping, possessing no significant strength nor inherent natural ability, nibbling at the knees of a behemoth. It was not even a worthy David and Goliath analogy, because David had been excellent with a slingshot and she... Well, she had dropped her bow somewhere in the grass and could hardly move for the white-hot pain that stabbed at her knee as she tried to use it - she would have to see a healer about that later, she had no idea what kind of damage had been done beyond an obvious bruise - and as cloven front feet made contact with the ground she knew it would be impossible to keep doing this.

Not right now, at any rate.

Volterra shouted encouragement at her as he came in for another attack, and his voice grounded her enough that the moment of panic could pass. Still, her movements were erratic and clumsy as she tried to dodge him, the weakened legs failing in bringing her away from his charging body. The bone-rattling impact as he slammed into her right side actually knocked her sideways in a bombardment of pain and dizziness; as she staggered off with flapping wings, straining to remain on her feet, she didn't even see the second attack. Blunt teeth clamped shut around her withers rather than the shoulder due to the momentum of the shove, pinching hard until another squeal of pain escaped her throat.

The world spun around her, a twisting kaleidoscope of color framed by darkness and flashing light. Her breath, already strained by the physical and emotional exertion, came in short bursts and Erthë was faintly aware of sweating, dark mottled patches emerging on her pale coat at every crease and fold of skin. She paid for her overconfidence now, with a battered and bruised body that would take some time to heal even with the assistance of magic, and there was no telling how long it would take to rebuild her confidence. But, strangely enough, this did not put her down. The realization of her own weakness that blossomed during this scrap almost felt liberating, because although the road she saw stretching on ahead was long, it was ultimately simple and straightforward. If Erthë did not wish to remain weak, she would simply have to grow stronger. If she did not want to be a coward, then she would have to stop leaning on the crutch that was her handicap and do something about it, meet the pain and humiliation head on and fight, straight on through until she changed.

How fortunate she was, to have this realization now in front of someone who didn't taunt her for this weakness. Though she realized that he had to be pulling his punches, Volterra still delivered them without babying her, and for that Erthë was incredibly grateful. His encouragement gave her strength, and though she was ready to drop to her knees and beg for pardon, she wouldn't. Not when he spoke to her like that!

With the last vestiges of strength the little mare pushed off against the ground and tried to rear, hoping to free herself from the vice-like grip on her withers. Up she rose, and then with a final jerk she shoved herself to the right, away from Volterra until, hopefully, enough space had been created that she would not have to suffer any more injury today. Give her a few weeks to recover and process his lessons, give her a few easier opponents to face; then she might come back for more.

For now however, Erthë was quite done.

---

PC: Closing defense
WC: 757


Thank you so much for this Snow, it was really fun! :D It's been ages since I sparred and I really feel it, I'm gonna need so many videos of play-fighting horses to get the movements and such back in haha. Thank you for the notes, they've really been helpful! I hope you're up for sparring again sometime, love the interaction between Vol and Erthe in this thread. <3

Erthë

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