As the earth shakes beneath the feet of the warriors Archibald bends his knees and balances himself skillfully, like he had done in his battle with Jackal. Archibald had his magic for a great time now, and he was used to bracing himself against the shaking tremors. His muscles, now tired from the vigorous kicks and movements of the battle, pulled more uncomfortably than normal as he stood from his magic. In mere moments, each warrior knew that the battle was over, and Archibald calmed the ground beneath them, sucking his magic back into his thick, socked limbs. Lowering his head, the Dauntless let his body stand heavily, ears flicking and eyes hard. AILITH had fallen behind him, knocked out. Snorting Archibald lifted his head, standing victoriously amongst his allies. The left side of his neck still bled, slowly but surely, from AILITH’s bite, and the bruising he had received from her lashing hooves throbbed dully in the back of his mind.

Loretta, pleased with her aid, tossed her head back into the air, paws dancing jovially as a howl ripped from her throat, tearing the world in two before OPHELIA spoke. Archibald silenced his bonded then, lifting his head to watch the bloodied white mare. She extended a home with them to LOCKET, and Archibald sighed in relief. The Dauntless knew that Locket was an excellent warrior, and he trusted him even though he only knew him on a shallow level. Grunting, the dark knight moved forward and made his way to LOCKET’s left side, touching his pale nose to the chestnut’s shoulder. The draft was generally a silent beast, one not known for his endearing words or praises, but LOCKET deserved something from his ex-Chief. “Well done.” The words were simple and clean, no pride or venom in them, but merely truth. LOCKET had fought well against Archibald in the past, and now he had fought against the Grey forces to defend the Foothills—LOCKET was doing exactly what Archibald had tested him to do.

Loretta was silent as she approached her bonded’s side, but her whine that followed pulled him from his praise. I can help. She pleaded, and lowering his head carefully, Archibald let her. Her salmon tongue rolled over the bite on his left side. The action stung slightly, but the Dauntless kept his face hard and stoic, letting the pain flow through him. At this point in life, Archibald had come to accept pain with an open heart—it was a part of him as much as his own blood was, it flowed through him and kept him moving. Pain reminded him that he could feel something deeper, better than what Mandrake had taught him. And the Grey had taught him that, too, even in his short time among their ranks. The Dauntless was changing, and he was sure those that knew him would see it soon—for he was only beginning to recognize it in himself.

When the malamute bitch was pleased she took a step back, looking around the bloodied land. Likewise, Archibald lifted his head and surveyed the area. Turning his neck, which groaned against him, he looked upon the fallen THAROS and AILITH, as well as several other Foothills members. The Dauntless snorted again, quietly, before noticing KTULU on the ground as well. Instantly the draft’s ears pinned and he moved stiffly towards KTULU and MIDAS, watching the pegasus guard the hybrid. Giving MIDAS a small nod, Archibald lowered his head to breathe into KTULU’s nostrils. “Wake up, child, victory welcomes you.”

The sun shone brightly above him, and the rest of the warriors, and the Dauntless felt the full heat of the Tallsun reign. In the crevices of his body sweat pooled, mostly unnoticed by the black knight until this moment when he stood incredibly aware of himself, his white feathers bloodied by the grass on the flat land around him, knowing MIDAS would watch him coolly. Archibald neededKTULU to move, to take pride in her warriors. She did not deserve to be down, no, she deserved to be standing valiantly next to her sister, claiming their new—well, old really—home, welcoming their family in with pride.

[WC: 700]