No, the dragon was not aware of the danger she was in. Her confidence in her own safety was immense as she flapped above the canine, taunting the beast with painfully shrill shrieks. Back and forth she flew, almost letting the dog catch her tail before pulling up again where the mutt wouldn't have been able to reach no matter what breed it belonged to. Fajira had the time of her life, but there was no doubt that she was more distracted than normally. Half of her focus was with her bonded, the strong ties between them allowing her to shield him from some of the pain he suffered due to the burns. It was the difference between standing in the middle of a fire or right next to it, where in one case the flames would lick the skin to ash while in the other he only had to endure the blistering heat.
Lace was grateful to her. If it hadn't been for his beloved soul sister this fight would have been impossible, and shame would for ever have followed him for not at least trying to save his homeland from the horned ones. It was thanks to her that he managed to clasp his teeth around skin and flesh for a brief moment, a small retaliation that was reassuring more than it was effective. The forward shift of the tall, dark brute jerked the leg out of his mouth with a jarring tug, and with hair and sweat lingering upon the tongue the grulla quickly retracted his head. His vision blurred for but a moment, he snorted as hooves clipped the air just below where his head had been - too darn close for comfort.
Despite the cold air, sweat was breaking out over the tricolored coat and darkened the metallic hues. Steam began to rise from the back, breath and body heat mingling with the surrounding mists, fogging the view and blurring their outlines. Like a giant ghost the black stallion began turning the broad rear towards the left, the shoulder shifting out of range from the kick Lace had unleashed. As quickly as he could he smacked his feet back into the moist ground, hearing the hollow thud above strained breaths, and shifted the weight backwards onto sore limbs. It was true that his skin was burned and blistered, but there were no problems with the joints or muscles; it was agonizing but not impossible to roll the balance backwards and heave himself up and right into a rear, for a fraction of a second hovering in the air before he thrust his entire weight forward. Intending to slam his breast into the back-most part of the Dauntless' right flank, he was moving through the air already as a pair of white hind legs flashed towards him in the haze.
White flares burst out before his eyes as a hoof clipped the tip of the left shoulder. For a moment he forgot to breathe, too absorbed in the white-hot pain to notice whether his body slammed with Archibald's or not. Pale hair flew through the air as the shorter stallion was pulled back to the earth, falling diagonally to the right so that he might end up side by side with the other, close enough to feel muscle and skin tingle from the unwanted closeness. The left leg felt numb, the kick must have struck a nerve or otherwise disabled something within the shoulder; it was only instinct that drove Lace to act immediately, with a blind lashing of the head aimed to knock into the other equines massive cheek and rake teeth over a golden eye too similar to his own.
Had his mind been filled with plans at some point? Gentle prodding from Fajira tried to remind him of something, but Lace couldn't remember what it had been. He was far from the cunning soldier he once had been, too softened by the comforts of safety and other duties to retain the sharp reflexes they required. Pain clouded his judgment, sadness and anger over needing to fight another war over land burned away the cool he so desperately would have needed. Left were only instincts and experiences earned from years on the battlefield, reluctantly put to use to defend what was his by right. It felt like he was moving through a cloud, partially blind and unresponsive; he could as well have been standing next to himself and seen the battle from outside, with a feeling that none of what happened concerned him.
WC: 759
PC: 2/4
M&C: 0/2, 0/1
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[O] When in Doubt, Stand and Fight [Invasion Defense]
