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06-06-2013, 12:40 PM
Deimos, Africa, Arah, Giselle.
Slowly, the cold, sluggish feeling faded, much like rain suddenly stopping and sunlight coming back. Alan kept staggering to the left, winded and trembling, and only barely managed to keep her balance and avoid falling on her face in the trampled muck. That.. that.. she was never doing that again. Leaning heavily against a convenient nearby tree Alan dragged in deep, sweet breaths through widened nostrils, her amber eyes fastened on Deimos: that was one hell of a stallion, and she couldn't put enough words into her gratitude of not having to have him as an enemy. And she was never, ever going to piss him off. And never, ever again pull the stupid tactic of running back closer to him, even if it seemed to have done the trick. Both mares were down, and the deathly powered seemed to wash away, returning to its master. Snorting shakily Alan decided to trust her own legs, and began to hobble back through the churned mud to where the fallen lay. Slush and damp earth stained Sinuhe's pristine body; blood leaked out of her nostrils, and Alan cocked a 'brow at that. Cursing each time she slipped she gave Deimos a wide birth, but still tossing him her wolf's grin to show that she had no ill feelings - and why would she? She'd walked willingly into his death-barrage, and if she'd died, she'd only had herself to blame. And, the same went for Sinuhe, she guessed. While Africa's sides heaved where she'd fallen, Sinuhe was still, eyes glazed over, all life stolen from her dainty body. "Well isn't that disappointing," she said dryly, hiding the faint waver still present by almost shouting. "Seems we're left with only one pet." And her gaze slid from the corpse, to Africa. Now they just needed to deposit Sinuhe somewhere; she'd not start to rot until spring, and might attract unwanted predators. Maybe someone had a hellhound who wanted a feast.  |
