WE WERE STRONG.
we stayed bright as lightning. we sang loud as thunder.
we moved ever forward.</style>
The anger I felt in my skull soon evaporating as I realize that Psyche the DarkEmpress is not a fighter. She may be able to throw blows, but she was ill-equipped to fight with one such as myself. I was raised as a warrior; I would die as one. When it comes to fisticuffs and violence, the snake of a leader is outmatched. Let us hope her lying, sleazy spirit carries her in this battle, lest I topple her skinny ass and trample it with my small, grey hooves. A grin pulls across my burly features, for while my hooves had missed the fleeing crown of the black bitch, my wing prevails. Down it slaps, clapping on her rump with a resounding thud that reverberates up my feathered limb, quickly retreating as a laugh of triumph sneaks past my lips. I continue to move forward as soon as my hind limbs are placed back on the earth, but I am not quite fast enough to leave unscathed.

Her hooves flash as well, much as I had anticipated with the swift retreat of my wing already planned. The shoulder, long since distanced from her horn, is out of reach of her flailing, ill-aimed hooves, but the bitter end of her kick lands upon my barrel a few inches behind the shoulder. The collision is swift, the full extension of her legs occurring just precious moments before, sparing me of critical damage, yet the down-stroke is just as alarming to my glee. The thud of her hooves kicks out the last note of my laugh, almost like I choke on my own tongue. I regain my breath quickly, but the hooves will leave a sizable bruise above my ribs, which I just know will piss me off for the rest of this fight.

It does not matter; I hit her first. Nee, ner, nee, ner, nee.

I pound onward, hooves cutting down into the hard soil of the tundra, readying myself for lift-off as my wings unfurl. Truly, before Psyche completes her pivot, the wind which remains with me always has lifted me upward, and I glace behind me only to see the lurching figure of Psyche taking a stab at my former position, but only getting to chase my tail. I resist a laugh, thinking her foolish. Who does she think she is fighting? Such ground-bound thinking. I expected nothing more.

My wings, however, are already weary from the flight to the Basin and coupled with the recent injury to my limbs, I know that my flights must be succinct. I begin to curve back around, with Psyche positioned on the ground like a sitting duck. Since she is already using her horn to her advantage, fighting with little else, I feel no remorse about showing her the beauty of wings.

I attempt to come around to Psyche's left, folding my wings close to my side as I aim to crash my extended forelegs into the top, midsection of her barrel. She is lighter of build, so perhaps I can knock her over with brute force. I did not want my feathered limbs within range of that nasty knife, so I cannot extend them as I normally would. A rough landing awaited me, but it is nothing that I cannot handle.
""

[ WC: 550; 2/4; 0/2. ]