The women come together in slips of gray, two wolves meeting in no-man’s land. Neither truly trespassing, but their mere presence is enough to start the posturing; with overblown egos and yellow eyes full of bias, each judge the other to be inferior, though either have yet to make a move. Appraising eyes note that they are similarly built, each boasting an impressive set of horns (though Wessex personally believes that the sheer number of her spikes and curious placement give the Corporal an advantage), but Wessex has a good hand over the other. If this comes down to which woman is stronger, though, she’s honestly not sure who will come out on top… or if anyone who cares to stop and watch them on this perfect Tallsun day would be able to distinguish soldier from soldier during the thick of it.

That’s where the pleasantries stop; as much as the Corporal is here to train and test her fellow soldier, she is also here to mark a win in her column. She’s recently found out just how much she has to learn, and part of her duties entail making sure the other Basiners can hold their own as well. This kills two birds with one stone. With a steadfastly neutral expression, its apparent Wessex has no animosity for her fellow warrior, just a simple, “Yep, Glad you could make it. I’m Wessex.” Ok, there’s a little snark, but she isn’t herself without it. A little thrill surges up her spine as they face each other, a mere couple of feet away. It’s too close for comfort, but she can’t back away, because that could be seen as weakness. Her ego simply won’t let her do that. Instead, her muscles tense as she prepares to move once the silly talking part is over with. The grass-covered ground offers firm resistance, and she likes to think that her reflexes are just a tad sharper than they used to be, after a couple of sandy spars. She’ll simply have to be quicker than Zunden.

Unlike her most recent excursion, Wessex is able to remain calm in the beginning. There are no trips, no stumbles, there is no strange magic to supersede her body’s will – there is simply her body and another’s, and this is where the horned mutant thrives. She doesn’t have to worry about impressing anyone (though it would be terribly embarrassing if she lost to a lower rank), for Wessex already feels at home in the Basin. And here, beneath a stunningly blue sky, she gets to do what she likes most. How could life get any better?

Zunden paws at the ground, giving away her readiness. Wessex makes an immediate decision to lunge to the right and hope for the best – starting out this close, she can’t be indecisive. Her opponent lunges forward, and Wessex swerves with a pivot to her right, hoping to clear at least ninety degrees and a full turn, propelling herself forward with powerful hindquarters. As soon as she judges that she is both far enough away and at the correct angle, her weight shifts forward and she bucks out with her back legs, aiming for anywhere on the front part of Zunden: shoulder, chest, neck, upper forelegs, it doesn’t matter. The only problem with this type of attack is that she isn’t sure where the other woman is, but she does know that she manages to avoid the woman’s horns. When her hooves land again, Wessex lashes out with her tail, swinging the barbs in a wide arc, hoping to hit the gray’s legs or sensitive belly, perhaps. That would sting like hell.

Without waiting to see if her attack lands, Wessex bounds forward again, eager to turn around and face the woman head-on. She continues to pivot to her right, using momentum to push herself around as quickly as possible. The sooner she can see what’s going on, the better. A surge of confidence flows through her body, unbidden, keeping her limbs feeling light, and a slight (but determined) smirk on her face. The Corporal knows all too well that luck can change in an instant, but damn, it feels good to be on top right now. Even the sun seems to twinkle a bit more brightly, sending its warmth down in abundance to bless the chilly region. A thin sheen of sweat breaks out across her armor-less, mottled coat, the sign of a vigorously good time.