Crack. He was successful, his kick shattered her knee. The familiar sound of bones crunching under his power made his legs quiver and his chest to swell. Tossing his head and letting his hooves fall back to the ground the Dauntless turned, taking his time. His golden eyes watched as she stumbled and fell, wing crushed underneath her. The crunching of many more bones echoed through the clearing, and Archibald took three steps forward.

Standing squarely over her he locked his eyes on hers, a dark gleam as he slowly let his lips curl into a smirk. She was weak and always had been. “Svetlana, I feel that you will not be chasing storms any time soon.” Blood poured from her body and pooled around her, the intoxicating scent rolling into Archibald’s nostrils. Memories flooded him, and his most recent murder still rung clear. Roanne, once a herd leader with so much power, fell under his hooves with the same look of defeat cracking his face. Archibald lowered his head to whisper into the broken female’s ear, “She had your death planned for months, and chose me to bring it. Evers, oh I know your feelings are so great for the blue, was almost chosen. We did not save you—we wanted you to die there—but this is so much more pleasing.” Archibald hissed the word pleasing, half expected Svetlana to try and bite his face or spit on him. Scoffing, the Chief lifted his head to its rightful place.

Archibald lifted one hoof, eyes still watching the agony that ripped through Svetlana’s own soul mirrors, and he slowly set the massive weapon above her jugular. When the black warrior had his hoof not but two inches from the warm flesh of Svetlana he slammed it down with all of his force. He wanted to hear her take in her last breath and sputter, to see blood rolling from her jaws.

Rolling his weight back, Archibald lifted his body into a high rear, not caring about anything else except the Pegasus mare’s demise. With a malicious glint in his eye, Archibald slammed his body back towards the ground, hooves rolling out like daggers set to demolish poor Svetlana’s head.


[WC: 370 | 2/2 | Archibald slams one hoof down on her jugular and then raises into a rear and comes down with hooves rolling to scrape and bash in her face/head.]