The past weeks had been strange, to say the least. When Meg tried to count the days they had a tendency to smear together in on convoluted blur of events and emotions. The shame that had plagued her journey back to Helovia had been eclipsed by the joy of homecoming, but even that joy was tainted. Her return had coincided with the string of murders that had taken two of her herd and though she had never met the two fallen mares, the attack in her family was still sorely felt. Though here and there she’d been warmed and contented in meeting more members of her herd, a drive to punish and protect had kept her on the move. Back and forth she’d gone, patrolling the borders of Dragon’s Throat and beyond, trying to gather what information she could. It was this last effort that had kindled the festering pit of frustration in the warrior’s stomach. She’d seen body after body, found clue after clue and had come no closer to stopping this phantom murderer. She was a fighter, god damn it, not a hunter or a tracker or a spy. She would take on any enemy face to face without batting an eyelash but how was she supposed to guard against what she could not find?

By the time Megaera was to leave Dragon’s Throat and meet Gaucho on the floating isle, she was itching for a fight. Spar or not, she needed to hit something, needed to be hit, needed an outlet for aggression so she could hopefully quash this feeling of ineffectual frustration. She took off from the oasis in a flurry of wings and aimed herself to the west. She followed the sun and as it was nearing the halfway poin in the sky ahead of her, she soared over the falls as the island’s edge When she heard her Sultan bellow from not far off, a mischevious smile spread across her face. Time for a fight.

The warhawk didn’t have too many qualms about fighting a little bit dirty. Gaucho was bigger that she, and far more experienced, Meg had to use any advantage she could, and if he couldn’t hear her approach? All the better. And she aimed her body upward, gaining altitude. By the time she spotted Gaucho in the open field, she would be no more than a pinprick in the open sky, and as long as he didn’t happen to look up…

She mounted her attack from the air, folding her wings tight against a lithe body and plummeting strait toward the earth. Her body spun through the air, gaining speed with every foot she fell. She had tried to think it through on her way here; she’d have to avoid his antlers. She’d rather not be impaled on them herself and this was only a spar… snapping her Sultan’s neck by dropping in it from the sky was not what she had in mind. She aimed for his haunches instead, never taking her sharp eyes from her target and she came closer…. Closer…. Then the moment came. Megaera was only yards above the ground when she flung her wings wide, the slight break in momentum gave her enough leverage to swing her hind legs downward and aim both hooves squarely toward Gaucho’s backside. She really hadn’t planned for a landing. But then, she had never been aces at those any way. A tumble off to the stallion’s left was her only option, she would just have to make it to her feet as quickly as she could.