d'Artagnan cursed as his lunge to bite his opponent's white ear missed it's target and instead simply shaved off some hair, the boy was quick on his feet and in thinking. Blood coloured ears flicker backwards in anger as he made a dash away from Aaron, realizing the momentum he had been carrying had left him wide open for attack. So it was a surprise when the Nightshade turned back to see the oncoming attack that, in fact, there wasn't one. Apart from an intense concentration on his foe's face. He grimaced a smile what, is he trying to stare me to death. The smile turned into a chuckle as he surmised that the draft was simply all bark and no bite. Although that ground shake was certainly something, maybe he'd run out of stamina. Hard to believe, with a body so muscled as his. It was when d'Artagnan was slowly letting his guard down it came.

Searing, burning it raged on through his body. Fire! It burned but it didn't. The Nightshade screamed in agony and began to back up. His instincts were in a mess, the thought of fire told him to flee, yet the flames themselves didn't burn. This was worse than the ground shaking, he would of preferred the shaking ground over this! His body lurched with the sick feeling pain brought, his head held high and away from the flames. Eyes showing their whites. The Nightshade's sanity snapped and forward his legs took him, anything to get him away from the flames. Away from the pain. With a flurry of hooves he turned his rear to the flames defensively. Flicking up his rump now as he galloped. His ears flickered between the fire and Aaron, a wildness about his pace.

Spurred on by necessity to get away, the shade collected himself and attempted smashing into Aaron's left side at a gallop. His rump flicking up again with no real aim to it, face no longer contorted with anger and instead a fear of a horse against fire. There was no real coherency to his thoughts and actions. d'Artagnan had never faced fire, he was a clan war veteran and well versed in the minds of warrior tactics. This however he was not. Magic was rare where he came from. Ironically, Seiren would have been a better match for his arrogant child who used his demon talent to trap him.

The fire in his body raged on and d'Artagnan slowed to a halt now positioned behind Aaron. Hurting and recoiling within himself, is this ever going to end?

Has this child... This boy... Defeated me?

Teeth grit at the angered thought but his huddled stance remained.

[w/c :: 452 | 4/4
ooc commentary :: d'Artagnan looses himself within Aaron's fire attack and screams out in pain. Hurtling at a gallop in attempt to escape it, d'Artagnan barges himself into Aaron and throws in a random buck. Carrying his momentum forward to now be positioned a few yards away from Aaron, withdrawing within himself in pain.]