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There is a slight jolt as her teeth graze my flank- softened, nevertheless, but still a little prick of annoyance finds a place in my chest. It won't be easy to simply turn around and bite her- no, it would be illogical. Instead, I drop my head, brace my shoulder for impact, and attempt to ram her with the silver shoulder, not hard enough to bruise if it hit her barrel, which was where I was aiming, but a good little buffet.
I remember how effective a body slam is, especially when in the air. Kri had done so to me, leaving me panicking and trying to find the air under my wings as I had scrambled, unbalanced, to collect myself. The little tank had been an excellent fighter. I wonder how old she was, where she had come from. Had she ever invaded my homeland? I wouldn't be surprised. Svikruch was a place full of wars.
Then I depart from Romani with two, three strides of canter, careful to keep myself light and flexible, asorbing any jolt that may come from a carelessly placed hoof on the uneven soil below. My tail switches as I slip by, one move which, if I aimed correctly, would be a stinging slap to the face. Another move full of attitude Kri had used on me; at least I had learned from my defeat with her. After these three cantering strides, I halt sharply, I spin on my haunches with a slight lifting of my forelegs. My wings are roused and my bewitching black eyes are sparkling. I breathe evenly, a skill difficult to master; so often does one in battle hold their breath, immobilizing and stiffening the muscle, or breathe too quick. The key is to find a balance that allows the blood to flow smooth and irregular, even if your heart is a wild galloping beast in your chest.
My eyes struggle to adjust the dim, shifting black light as the shadows flicker over the discrepant ground. One of my hinds crush another small twig underfoot, and a thin, whip-like pine branch slap my ivory cheek. I was coming back for a charge. Should I, I wonder, try and leap on her as I had done with Murder? No. I don't want to crush her, and besides, I am hardly be able to open my wings in this tree-crowded place. Maybe if I were in an open glade or forest. I twist around the fir tree trying to block my way, back to Romani, and rear up, hooves ready to, hopefully, hit her in the head, should she not move or dodge or come up to me. But I would soften the blows if I could.
I'm lucky she doesn't have a unicorn horn. I can only remember the dull thud as the blue unicorn Murder smashed me with his curved-back horns, sending me reeling and gasping for breath. Maybe I am a cocky mare. The more I remember, the more I remember all my fighting faults. You have won against countless in Svikruch. And Validino. Yes, I suppose I have- but I need to beat horses here in Helovia, not in a land far away.
Svikruch is not my home anymore, nor is Angela my best friend or Jezabelle the Fighter my companion. I no longer charge into the fray and paint blood on my lips and face with the other warrior-girls of that cold icy land, where fighting and honor is everything. Neither do I watch and command, wings beating to keep myself aloft as I try to remain out of sight from the enemy, ordering the troops. I am not the Khan's lover. Nor is he my lover.
Yet I am still Svetlana. I can still win this fight. I still want to taste victory and still want to be on top. I want to know I am still the fighter I once was. I want to be known as a fighter in this land, and admired as one. I want to be Svetlana the Stormchaser again, for right now, I am only a mischief-maker and outlaw and a problem. I have lost my honor, lost everything. What more do I have to lose? Why are you thinking this way? Yes, why am I? I still have hope, do I not? That chance to become something again? I still, maybe, may one day make amends.
WC: 737
Other: 2/2, 0/1 defense post.
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[Judge] Question, Part II [Rome]
