There was pain searing his being, but it wasn’t his own. Odette released a blood curdling yelp of pain and Déodat’s gaze flickered over to her, distracted by her cries of agony. Irelyn’s magic hadn’t damaged her mouth, but several droplets of molten heat fell upon her face and the griffin’s beak had multiple times struck the pup’s right eye. Passionate rage pulsated through Déodat’s being at the griffin. He would crush her skull against the rocks, should he lose the glorified chicken would be the first to die.

“Run!” Déodat screeched into his bonded’s mind. “Get the hell away from here! Go find Lena, go find her and she will help you.”. Odette was leaping up to swipe her claws up at the griffin once again. He could feel her terror, and even the regret burning inside of her. This was the pup that regarded every creature as a friend, she never would’ve harmed another being unless it threatened herself or others, and here she was, damaged before she was even six months old. Whether her eye could be saved was something to be revealed later. It would be a lesson to her, and it would taint the innocent affection aimed at others. If his mind was polluted with rage and bloodlust, surely the stallion would’ve felt pained by the drastic turn of events in his bonded’s life. She was still a child and she was being thrust out into the battlefield. No glory, no honor, no fucking title was worth the death of his closest friend and confidant, the closest thing he had to family. Yet, he remembered he had family now. Mirabella flashed into his mind. His beloved daughter, his greatest treasure and pride, and in that moment he found his motivation. It wasn’t the Plague, it was Mira, his child and only blood that remained beyond his cousin.

Déodat dragged his thoughts back to the battle as Odette gave one last howl before finally charging away from the battle. Images of his daughter still danced at the edge . As he drew nearer to his opponent, there was no cracking of ribs or shattering of bone. Instead there was the carving of flesh. It left him hollow and unsatisfied. One thing Déodat knew, was that things that came up, must come down. No matter how swift he believed himself, there wasn’t any way to fully avoid the oncoming blow. He felt his opponent’s weight slam down onto his hindquarters, sending a shot of pain. The wet ground beneath him and his charging gait caused Déodat slide forward slightly. Mud sprayed up onto his body and his scrambled to gain his footing, which simply caused him to slide forward even further. For the briefest of moments, panic flooded his mind and body at the fear of collapsing onto the ground.

As he finally managed to come to a halt and regain his footing, he could feel pain in his shoulder and blood oozing from the wound on his face. His breaths were coming in ragged and his strength was fading quickly. The time for the victor to be crowned was nearing, and Déodat intended to be the one to walk away with the title. Rain continued to pour down and his body dripped with a mixture of water droplets and sweat. The cold downpour prevented his body from overheating, an appreciated aspect for his physical state.

Déodat surged forward towards Torleik once again. Mud flew up around his feet and caked his legs and chest as he sought to draw closer and closer. He lowered his horn, to give the illusion of him seeking to impale the stallion in the face. Once he hopefully drew up to the stallion he flung himself up into the air, mocking the General’s previous assaults upon his horn. Déodat released a soft growl of hatred, seeking to shatter the stallion’s horn, and make him a disgrace to the rest of the Basin. If he couldn’t shatter his horns, then Déo would settle for the stallion’s face.

One horn will be for Odette’s eye, the other for Mirabella’s honor. My child will not be the daughter of a failure He thought to himself with a wild craving for the shards of horn. All the pain surging through his own body, and the pain that still resonated from Odette, was channeled into his rage and hatred. Any previous attempts at respect toward the Bloodskald died away and Déodat decided then and there, he wouldn’t rest until the title of General was his.

[3/4
Words: 750
Summary: Déodat charges again towards Torleik, making it seem like he was going to try and impale him again only to mimic his opponent and rear up and try and shatter his horns or damage Torleik's face.]
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