The dappled mare plowed through the snow and found herself a nice hiding ground. There was a large clog of birch trees, battling for the same positions. Soon, they would all be tangled together and before they knew it, they were going to be trying to get away from each other. Hellä found this place rather stealthy and a competitive war ground. She blended in with the trees unlike the bay, so it gave her advantage in the brutal fighting status. The soldier had already thought out her plan and knew it was exactly positive to be used in this specific area.
She waited, listening for the ugly pony to follow her into her trap. Finally, the raspy breaths came slowly. ”Good, she’s wearing down.” Hellä smirked and waited. Moniz’s hooves were barely touching Earth, meaning that she was limping. The vibrations of what did touch ground level, traveled into the dapple’s veins in her steady legs. The bay approached closer and closer, the struggling breaths became louder, and the vibrations began to grow stronger. Her health – unlike Hellä’s – was decreasing in every moment the dirty mare made. She would have to give up soon, or else she would lose her life in a not-so-pleasant way.
Moniz was slowly making her way, but as soon as she was close enough to the dapple, she let out hell. Her body came swarming towards Hellä, her gapping teeth grabbing a hold of the skin that was near the dock of her tail when the soldier turned her body to try and block her out. ”Damn it!” She cursed at herself and her teeth grinded against each other in pain as her ears catching the sound of her flesh ripping loose of roots that had firmly held on to it until this moment.
The bay mare now turned to kick her, but Hellä didn’t let her get away with it. She now backed up, hoping to end up rear to rear so that the sharp kicks wouldn’t cause as much pain. The grey didn’t try to fight as the bitch tried to ram-sack her right in the hocks, for she only nicked her in the shanks, causing the slightest trouble. Now it was Hellä’s turn, and she didn’t take any time to jump into action.
Her harks pinned down as she took off at a high-speed canter. She twisted throughout the forest, going as far as the bay mare could’ve seen, and then slid herself around. Her strong legs ran as hard as they could. She headed straight for the ribs, hoping to slam the dark mare into the birch tree that didn’t stand to far from her. If she hit, the move would end her, but if she missed, Hellä was doomed herself. Her health would bombard far down below to where she would have to tug around half of her limp body. Battling was nothing to joke about.
You could win, you could lose, or you could lose yourself. It was more difficult to win, but not this time around. The grey soldier found herself quite comfortable when sparring such a small competitor, but she still kept her eyes open for anything the mare might pull out of her pony tricks. When it came to losing, you either lost by trying or lost by defeat. Hellä had never lost by defeat, she always tried to her fullest, for the strong were never weak and the weak were never strong. She was strong, according to her own thoughts in mind. If others thought she was weak, so be it, but she would never let herself believe that she could not conquer what she craved the most.
Power.
Hellä had wanted to be a ruler ever since she had met Adalwulf. He had been her footsteps to follow, and leadership to be copied. He was her everything. She didn’t know him for long, but she desired his knowledge to be pasted on to her, if at all possible. He was a legend to her, and all she wanted to do was to be involved in his war lord act. That’s when her battle history began, and she longed for her first taste of real blood.
Her dreamland disappeared and now she was back to reality, wasting her time killing a worthless mare that would mean nothing if she wished for mercy. The bay pony wouldn’t mean anything if she were to lose her, what remained, bit of life.
If her rib cage attack didn’t hit, she hoped the next one would. Her rump aimed towards the pony’s front legs, closing distance between the two as it back up. Her sharp claws struck out with speed and force, raising up to at least blood-dye the chestnut, which was filled with much more blood.
Blam.
Attack: 3/3
Word Count: 800
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[JUDGED] Who's the crooks in this crime? [Hellä]
