The long standing weight of being a leader had taught me many things. The first was that you should never truly trust anyone with the sole safety of the herd aside from yourself. Sure, I allowed Azzuen to watch our borders and train the warriors, but ultimately, the main bulk of decisions of the herd turned toward me. I would never be so stupid as to allow someone else to take us toward a path that spelled destruction. The second, which had stemmed from a paranoia dating back to Isilme, was to be ever vigilant of movement into my borders. It was because of this that I know almost instantly that Prometheus has returned home with another, wingless, potential member.

More comfortable in the skies, that is where you can find me now, sailing above the clouds with ease until I bring myself to begrudgingly tilt my wings downward and descend in a fast spiral, my altitude plummeting as I head toward the crimson ground below, the wind whistling against my feathers until a few feet away from the hard surface of the desert, where a billow strikes vertical suddenly, slowing my pace to a crawl and pulling my wings upward, allowing to to land with style and precision before the trio.

Equine, unicorn, and tiger.

The last of the three looks to be in bad shape, but I say nothing to Prometheus. Onni had also found an animal to bond with, but I had found that she cared for the small bird as if it were her own child. It was quite fascinating to see this one in such disrepair. "Welcome home, Prometheus," I say casually, before tilting my eyes to look over toward the new mare. "What is your name?" I ask, calmly, evenly, but my tone denoted a gruff sort of authority as I stared at her with hard, dark eyes.
""

I bow my head in return for the graceful sweep of Rowan's body, which I assume is a sign of respect. I am weary of telling others to see me as more of an equal, with little need for formality, so I just take it in and say nothing. My face remains serious, even as Prometheus barks rudely at his cat. My brows knit in my own form of irritation, even as he works his metal to force the tired animal to stand upon shaking, tired legs.

"You are welcome to reside here, Rowan," I say, trying to move my attention back to the mare who wishes to join. "My name is Kri." I offer my name to her finally, though I think she would figure out sooner or later who I am. The leader tends to be one of the few things members of the herd no for certain. Everything else can be cloudy and blurry, but at least you know who to blame for your world coming to sudden, abrupt stops. As long as you knew who to point your finger at, did much else matter?

A sizzling in my ears and the smell of burning makes my face turn reluctantly toward what I was trying to ignore. Slicking back into the mess of blonde, my ears become almost none existant as I see the poor creature at the unicorn's feet suffer and sizzle underneath metal that I had granted this beast by offering him the job. His words cut like a knife through the air, directed at my throat as if to kill be before judgment is to be cast. In defiance, I hold my head steady, give him an easy stare. "Yes," I say, flatly. If I could render the tiger cub free of this menace, I would, but for now I have more important problems heading my way.

The hiss of metal and the glint of silver in the sun captures my attention as it bubbles in the surface of the desert, leaving behind ugly black gashes in the earth. Now fully aware of the predicament, my front end slides upward into the air, body weight resting precariously in the balance of my back limbs as I pivot away from the advance. My face cuts back into an ugly sneer, and I do think twice before letting out an unhappy snort before the wind begins to tear through the area. It swirls around in my mane before cutting downward, impossibly fast, tool cool the liquid metal. Unfortunately, with his power of craft this is a momentary defense from the assault, will at best buy me only a few seconds.

My hooves touch down and I use their force to pound the earth, launch me upward on wings that unfurl in time to lift me, wind being brought back toward me to aid in my ascent. I fly a few strokes before making an impossibly sharp turn, my wing brushing the ground as I turn horizontally, straightening out and heading forth toward Prometheus's shoulder with my hooves extended like spears. Anger a lion and you will hear a roar.

Threaten her and you'll be torn asunder.
""

I may not be able to kill this bastard who breathes life into long since atrophied limbs and organs, may not be able to make him feel the same pain that my skin repels from, but damn it, I can certainly try. Let no such a bastard feel that I can be so casually stepped on. While the title of Leader does not suit my breast, the crown weighing heavily on my head, I would rather be gutted here on the red sands than proven weaker than a worthless colt already dealt the cold hand of death. With these thoughts, I let the wind pull me forward, feel the grips of wind at my mane, and dive forward, a hideous sneer mirroring the pile of rotten flesh and decay that is before me.

So, at least this creature fears me enough to not want him pretty form allowed by another heinous magic to be so muddled by my own hooves. At least, he has enough emotion to be vain. Regardless, I think his callous and placid manner will only suit to be his undoing. The rage burning in my heart, the fierce determination that breeds deeper in my bones, in my skin, in my soul, the light behind my darkened eyes, these are all a power that this monster of the other side cannot call upon to save him down. If I cannot extinguish his false light, I will at least make his day one he had wished did not begin.

As claws of metal reach up from the ground toward my legs, I laugh. The quaking, the clanking, all of these are auditory clues that leave me plenty of time for my spritely reaction. Unlike the fucking dead, I am alert. I am responsive. I am reactive, and watch me explode as I take this corpse to the underworld where he actually belongs. The wind billows underneath me, the magic granted by the griffons still protecting my flight. You cannot pull me from the sky, my soul, their souls, would not allow for it. It pushes me up, my altitude increasing even as the chains ascend, my hooves pulling at my target before I am shot like a rocket forward into the sky.

Rowan nothing more than a passing thought as I grimace, one of the chains clawing at my legs as I rise, trying to tug at me but finding no solid grip. My wings tear harder than metal, clawing forward into the sky in an attempt to escape the magic I had given him power over. My face contorts into an ugly form of regret, but mostly rage, as I rise steadily upward, only to spiral and turn to head back toward the ground, now free of the chains which would bind me. There is no other emotion, just reckless determination and a fire that had been born into my heart many years before.

I slowly begin to call upon the other magic. So, Prometheus, your conjuring of cheap tricks with metal is cute, but it is nothing intended to be evil. Crushing weight descends on your precious metal, upon you, upon your cat that you would torment so, even as he protests your actions. You cannot feel pain, but if I know anything about emotional bonds between companions, your pathetic tiger can feel this weight now, and his screams will dull into your senses nothing else I can push forth will.

The next move, I descend down again, still holding the rope of density, still crushing the figures below me, hoping that Rowan has not foolishly stepped into the fray. That, unfortunately, might be her undoing. Instead of hooves, my hungry jaw snaps open and extends for the delicate, dead neck of the zombie. Since this idiot is not using his head anyway, why not allow me to take this burden form his shoulders?

[ Well, a spar isn't really necessary since Kri kind of has to win ultimately. If the outcome was uncertain, I'd say maybe. ]
""