I’d expected a quick retaliation, perhaps even a move of avoidance to escape damage. When I rose to attack, she didn’t seem fully aware; said paint didn’t move to escape or quickly rise to strike back – yar because of this my hits fell harder than intended. Teeth closed around their mark, sliding across slippery and foul tasting flesh. Her plasma burst, spraying hot in my mouth, coppery and bitter in flavor; succeeding to successfully wrench a nauseous pitch somewhere in my stomach. I found myself rushing to press weight further along my quarters, withdrawing almost as quickly as I had struck – though the damage had already been dealt. Small fragments of her pelt and hair lingered on tongue and between two back molars.

She scrambled backwards, her cry, piercing. My ears slam back, hindquarters bunched tightly, momentarily panicked that I'd caused serious injury. I fall forward, unable to completely withdraw effectively. Chin tucks to chest, shielding my neckline and aiming to put a little distance between us. My wings, (which had been tightly coiled to barrel) extend ever slightly – withdrawing to balance my stance. Forefeet land with a heavy thud into the slush, sucking my fetlocks below the earth. I never even got the chance to struggle them free before the painted female sprang from the ground. Teeth wide, eyes wild and flashing their fury.

Nostril’s flared, water droplets flew into the atmosphere as head jerked aside, the shock of her speed stirred my instinct to retract further. My reactions came too late. Ivory incisors slashed down the lower right side of my cheek, (narrowly missing the eye), those piercing needles ran without mercy down half the length of crest, pulling at a clump of mane and sliding into the meat of my neck. Muscles quivered as pain lashed like a whip and rushed into brain. Senses sharpened, then dimmed, narrowing vision.

Peripheral sight darkened until I felt that my gaze was being drawn down a long, dark tunnel. Drops of blood ran between hairs, sliding across flesh and making my neck feel as if a thousand little flees had suddenly taken up residence.

Ears caught the sound of an anguished yell, not hers; nay, my own. A wheeze, globules of her blood dribbled down lips, frothing upon chin. Vocals clinched and my pained wail was cut short by a crack of dry thunder that shook the land beneath our limbs. The gash burned, throbbing as a quickened pulse throttled more blood to the wound in an attempt to form a clot.

Sadly…I’d not get the chance to recover, though nor was I about to give said girl the opportunity to strike me in such a way twice. Lips slide back, revealing clinched teeth. Fighting the discomfort I pushed skull center, the throb grew into misery. Chest pulled hard against my sunk forelimbs, pulling the length of both daggers from the soil. I pressed hard forward, attempting to move toward her left side. Teeth slide apart – all concern fleeing behind a sheen of pain and hot uncertainty.

The armored collar around throat beckoned me to call it forth…I resisted; still aiming for a clean spar.

How foolish was this? Dancing with this complete stranger….

Crown snaked out and up, angling toward the left side of her crest. Hoping to catch hair or flesh between teeth. Left forehoof rose, bending at the knee, rising to strike along her dirty limb should such come near enough for contact. Left shoulder tightened, pulling at the fresh lesion along the wounded side of my neck painfully. The feathered limb nearest to her bulk withdrew; pinions spread and thrashed hard once, twice; aiming to bat at cranium or perhaps deter further punishment.

OCC:

Word count: 617

Attack (2,3)