Stench, the stench of pine and snow, the threat or war in the air. Before pale eyes witnessed the approach of a foreign entity, the soft nostrils smelt them. Like maggots crawling from the grass. Sage felt the tenseness of war enter a friendly battle for a rank. This rank, it mattered little now that the world was shifting under her hooves.

As the pain tore into her chest, something else did not feel right. Unsettling, like a creeping shadow on an otherwise brilliantly sunny day. The chill along her spine foreboding, malicious, vicious. That is when she saw it - the flash of an unfamiliar body in the trees. Her head snaps to the side, kick landing in the soft loam without touching the soft flesh of a friend. Destrier, unlike these snakes in the bushes, he was still a friend. This fight was bigger than a title. Bigger than this opponent. The feeling reminding her of the first war upon these lands. Her lithe frame begins to turn in the direction of the bay body, when an emerald flash attacks her from above, shaking her neck forcefully, the mare hopes to dislodge the pesky thing, but not before taloned claws dig small scratches painfully into her neck.

Snorting, Sage continues to canter on, turning her head back toward the black stallion who rushes toward her now, face contorted into worried beauty. "INVADERS, DESTRIER!" His bite meets nothing but the flash of her tail in the moonlight as she pulls forward at full speed, his hooves striking but the empty space where she had been standing. The golden beauty had no way of knowing about Svetlana's retreat during the very same maneuver, but if she had, the belle might have laughed mightily at the coincidence. Perhaps, this laugh would have been one of the few blessing this day; unfortunately, the hope for laughter ended here.

For now, only a steely glint usurped her view as her mind shifted from the glory of a new title to the distinct need to protect her home, her kin. Teal eyes narrow into small slits as she gazes for the phantom body in the starry mists. The soft loam and dense air silenced the sound of walking hooves, dimming her own approach. It is only by luck that Sage meets the vision of Lena, a black horn happening to glint against the silver light of the moon. Dancing between the trees, Sage feels the branches reach for her, but allowing her well versed knowledge of the forest to guide her. She had been gone a long time, though, and a few moments brought her unfortunately close to the trunk of a tree.

Sage rushes from behind the heart shaped bottom of an unfamiliar bay mare, her coat thick from the living in the clutches of the north. The gold's own body toned and lithe from the months of travel, years of battle, and now a momentous amount of courage. Knowing her right side to be significantly more battered, the mare twisted herself toward the right, aiming to keep her injured ribs far out of the reach of this vixen. From the slipshod estimate, the mare is shorter but of the same body build; the presence of a kitsune goes entirely unnoticed. The distance is eaten up by rushing hooves, and when the pegasus believes she is within range, the plan for her attack is set in motion.

Unlike with Destrier, a body slam would still be effective.

Without waiting for acknowledgement, Sage tosses her left shoulder toward the sensitive bend where the ribs meet the elbow of Lena's right side, pulling a move straight from Destrier's book and trying to injure the sensitive area. To distract from a slice of the gleaming horn she had viewed earlier, the beauty sends a gnarly bite toward her face, ears pinned all the way back on her skull. Upon her face, the normally sweet innocent exterior is torn into such an expression that reads very clearly:
Get the fuck out of my home.

[ WC: 683; 1/4. ]