The snarl died as she listened to the skyrat's words, though her teeth remained bared and her amber eyes narrowed in fury. Hackles raised along her nape and back as she crouched, ears flat, hatred evident from every line of her body. Within her mind was a waging war, as one part of her conceded defeat, for what was she without her crown? And another part refused to give in to such weakness, hissing and howling its fury. And so she remained, frozen, unable to decide which would win. The numbness of shock had not yet set in, you see, for the adrenaline of battle and then fear still flowed through her system.

White teeth rimmed with red glowed in the dim moonlight, shining from behind the clouded sky. The rat taunted her, gloating in her victory. The Empress was not impressed. One day, this bitch would fall; she would see to it personally. Rejoice while you can, darling, she threatened silently, her eyes revealing her murderous intent. Suddenly, her horn was stabbing through the air; the jackal released a half-yelp, half-growl and leaped to the side to avoid it. The following stamp did not give her time to express her outrage as she was shuffled unceremoniously toward the edge of the Throat. She slunk through the shadows, carefully staying out of the rat's range, but refusing to leave nonetheless. "You can't kill me!" she taunted with a wicked grin, again revealing bloodstained teeth. A wild cackle spilled forth.

But it was all a mask, an illusion. As the battle-high slipped from her system, logic and reason had returned to the shade. She was in horrible condition, mentally if not physically. She would not win in a fight like this, not when she had for so long relied on that horn. The shock and pain of losing her crown was beginning to set in, making her stomach roil with nausea. No, staying here would not better her chances.

And what did she fight for? As she looked around to see her forces falling beneath the hooves of the lessers, she was forced to question her lifelong belief in her own superiority. How could they be better when they were so easily beaten? How could she hope to rule them when her own battle had been such a fiasco?

Was she really so much better than them?

"I will be back, my pet," she sneered finally before turning and scurrying from the desert.

If she was running away, she refused to admit it to herself.

"Talk talk talk."

@[Shadow]