Apollo had returned. Lakota’s euphoria was tainted only by the queer doubt that sank into the folds of her brain like a slow, corrosive acid. There was the belief that her beloved would never cheat, never waver, but what if Ktulu desired him more than she? He was splendid, mannered and passionate in counterpoint to Lakota’s abrasiveness, her ferocity. Midas had been more akin to Apollo. Was she merely seeing things that were not there? Was it her own self-doubt that made her feel so profoundly nervous, uncomfortable? Whether her lack of control was explainable or not, Kota had always been a rather volatile creature. It was bound to escape in the worst kind of way; in bloodshed and battle cries, burn of limb and heat of foreign blood on her teeth. She was seeking a target, a body to sink her fangs into, until she could forget all her yesterdays with the burn of the present hour. Face her loved ones without the burn of self-hatred threatening an illogical fight.

Together, we shall win, comes the gruff promise from her beloved, a mass of northern painted fur and lime predatory eyes. Queen of Shadows and the King of Ice. Blood and vengeance, careless rage and lack of consequences their driving force. They flee to the west of the peninsula, to the borders of the earth, of the world they know. The sun bakes their backs, the unity between them blurring all lines of individuality, gender, even physical presence. They are a sole unit, a hunter, a machine.

The scent is caught, echoing from the bear to the mare in a nanosecond. It is a scent they know, one they remember. Flashes of her mate transforming, the battle where Ktulu and Archibald reigned triumphant, victorious. Beautiful, cast in the blood of friendly foes. Memories of a snobbish girl with a judgment too young for her swollen sided future, biased and harsh against the fearless truth the Poisoner had deigned to share with the cretins. A cry splits the air seconds after a sly smile crossed the blackened lips of the beautiful disaster keen on making this her new notch of victory. A shared glance with the snow prince at her side brings wholehearted confirmation. They are nearly able to taste her blood already.

Ivories gleam in the weak afternoon sun, black lips curled back as her boy becomes a beast. An earth-shattering roar echoes across the empty sands and vapid sea, Aurelia’s primordial answer to an invitation she will regret creating. A challenge she will lose.

Together they turn to speed, thick paws and small ebonite hooves thundering down a stretch of palest creams. A path to her prey, eaten up beneath her gait. Lakota’s opponent is a beacon of buttercream and gilded skin, and she snorted to herself to see the babe so idiotically still. Approaching the lass from an angle, behind and to her left, perpendicular to Aurelia’s left flank. Not bothering to announce her presence, Lakota coiled her hind legs, a panther unleashed as she lunged for the winged girl with a gleaming trap of teeth aimed for the jut of the child’s left hip. Forelegs already poised in her leap to rake down the outside of the pale babe’s left hind leg during her gravitational return to earth. Aodaun ran to cover her, assuming that Aurelia would instinctively turn to face her opponent. He slid to a halt in a flurry of sand, with snapping teeth and wild eyes, hoping to instill fear in the bestial part of Aurelia with his predatory appearance. They move like a pendulum, together and perfectly timed. Gleaming, well oiled, beneath the overhead sunlight.

Her blood would look dashing, spilt upon the sands. Lakota and Aodaun were eager to put it there.