Hard.

My chest claps against his shoulder, stinging slightly, and I feel my weight drive into him as I crane my neck around his withers, causing the black Pegasus to race ever close to the unforgiving floor. I press myself closer with a flap of my hazel tipped wings, feeling the heat of his skin come clammy in mine. I kick out my hind legs just as he’d done one hit earlier. Rotating my amazon build in the air to break the contact. I didn’t adjust myself until I felt cool air fill the space of my chest, and I spread my wings to glide back into the sky, watching him all the time, head between my knees with calculating eyes.

But Murdock knew what he was doing.

The ebony body stayed curled in the air, pallid wings folded against the uprising wind. He carried himself down, unafraid of the nearing ground. And before I thought he would meet Loorien’s great crust, he spread those large wings to glide upwards – slightly. He was smart to keep low in the sky so I could not plummet to meet him in a hard smack, but I still wanted him on the ground. I had a feeling that it would take more than pushing him around to get him there.

The wind hissed and the crackle of electricity was dead close. Even though I was significantly lower to the ground I could still feel the hairs on my neck rise with the magic of static. Mist hung heavy overhead, and I rode the wind closer to him, closer to the ground.

I watched him spin in the air, gracefully arching his slender body to pick up speed, tossing himself in my direction. I sped at him too, ears pinning against my singing mane, feeling sweat bead on my shoulders were my wings burned a gentle fire. With a quick swerve of his wing he races at my side nearing me at a hazardous speed with each wing flap. His body hisses as he attempts to whirl past, flashing a mouthful of silver teeth at the precious joint of my right wing. In attempt to dodge the skillful move, I raise my wing and jar to the left, feeling room to kick out a powerful, slender leg hopefully punching the tender, black barrel.

As I do so, I feel Murdock’s bottom teeth rake the skin of my own barrel after clipping away a sliver of skin from my protruding wing joint. The first drop of rain splashes into the fresh wound and the pain throws me off balance. My fierce hazel eyes narrow. More drops fall from the blackening skies as lightning cracks across the air. My tawny tipped wings shift and I circle to the left, hoping to reach sight of the fast-moving stallion.

Maybe this rain would get him to the ground.

ooc; 480 words -- 3/3