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I miscalculated, to say the very least, and immediate and sudden fear sinks into me as I glance upwards, horror in my eyes as he too tips right; but I'm too late to change course, and I brace myself for the inevitable jolt that will be delivered. The wind moans, melancholy, in my ears, as if whispering an apology for my demise. I can't forgive it, for it gusts harder and harder about me, pushing on my fragile bones. Perhaps it's panic that tightens my chest and makes my breathing harder, not coming easily to my lungs; maybe it's just the thin atmosphere. Some might describe fear as euphoria, an en-heightening adrenaline rush that tingles in your blood and shoots through your veins; it is not so. It paralyzes me, numbing me, even as we make impact.
It rattles my bones and bruises my muscular haunches; my teeth jar together, making an unpleasant crunching sound. A shock runs down my right side, emanating especially throughout the hip joint. Though my wings keep beating, I wonder if it's even possible for me to land like this- I can only see it hurting like the devil dickens. I wish it wasn't so, but somehow I can only see it hurting me more than him. Talk about a move backfiring.
He goes spinning past, no doubt sent swirling through our unpleasant collision.
I can only imagine how much it hurts for him, for I can feel where his left hip side rubbed against mine. How could I have done something so recklessly irresponsible? Did I not pride myself on my modesty and level-headedness? And here I was, practicing unnecessarily dangerous maneuvers that might not just hurt the other, but myself as well! Backwards, I say; entirely backwards. This was not a war, and I did not have to be foolish. This was just a game, a silly play. Why were my intentions so horribly strong to hurt him? Shame burns inside me. I wish Midas was here, the kindly general- he could advise me on this, I'm certain. I am a warrior- I protect, and while that may entail hurting another, that should never mean I need use more force than should be used.
Almost automatically, I fall downwards after him, tightening my legs to my star-wrapped bodice, and my teeth shut over gritty, coarse hairs- unfortunately, his hair was a little bit loose- maybe he has mange- and they pulled free. Stingy, maybe, but no real harm done. Nothing worse than the feathers he has pulled from my wing.
Suddenly, he twists and turns beneath me, lunging upwards at throat, broad yellowed teeth looking suddenly and terrifyingly like the snapping fangs of wolves. Because of how close are bodies are, and the position he angles himself to be in, Green's teeth snaps at my exposed throat. Hastily I tuck my head, protecting my throatlatch from harm, and I scowl down at him as his teeth graze my forehead, an unpleasant sensation but much better than having my throat clutched in his flat teeth. I suppose I should be thankful of this- but mostly, I feel anxious and a little bit pessimistic. Let it just be said this short battle was nothing I expected, and to be honest, I'm not sure who won.
I open my wings slowly, the pressure on them making my appendages ache, and I pull out of the steep plunge downwards, rising upwards quietly and gracefully, throwing him one last guarded smile; "Thanks!" I call out cheerfully, pushing away the last bitter twinges that play on my heart.
I want to see him again, the handsome stallion who fights so well, and the image of us doing something very different from fighting makes me blush.
1/1 Closing Defense
Thank you so much for sparring with me!
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[JUDGED] Into the Fire [Andromeda]
