As the canine bitch reeled back, her fur bristled with the feeling of the whoosh of Ghost’s hoof passing her left shoulder. Another, final snarl left her lips as she quickly jumped to the right, careful to avoid any more hooves should they thrust in her direction. Damnit! She sent to Archibald, teeth empty of skin, fur, or blood. The red and white female’s legs splayed a she steadied herself with Archibald’s earthquake. She was used to the King’s tremors, but it took great focus to be able to stand still over them. The earth tremors reach out with their powerful hands and grip the terrain, knocking it around. In the background—near and far—Archibald could hear as the tremors disrupted the flow of waterfalls and their feeding rivers.

Snorting, the King lurched forward. The pain in his gaskin still screamed up his leg, his gate a limping canter, but still he presses on. The Czarina takes to the air, off balance and unsure, but still she takes to the air. There is a similarity between them—pressing on, urging their bodies to continue, despite pain that vibrated through sinew and bone. Ghost was much worse for wear, which was up to no dispute, but even the Dauntless, the monstrous behemoth of a stallion, felt pain. Golden eyes veered up to black, peering into the stubbornness that Ghost veiled herself in. The King’s bite missed her completely from her decision to go aerial, and it displeased him. What displeased him even more, however, was what happened next.

Ghost altered her course, hooves pressed on towards Archibald’s already injured leg. The black knight turned his shoulders away, his battle-hardened mind quick to catch her motive. His injured gaskin screamed at him, and the Dauntless winced with apparent pain and discomfort, but her hooves missed his already injured gaskin. Instead, they scraped against the chainmail that protected his leg. The slam of her hooves against the metal would surely leave a bruise on the skin beneath, but there was no puncture. It still displeased Archibald, however, because she got in the last hit. The Dauntless grumbled some, stopping as he reached Loretta’s side. The bitch went to run forward, the tremors dissolved beneath her, and Archibald stopped her. No, he commanded, it is done.

Ghost spoke and Archibald turned around, slowly, letting his weight fall to his three fully healthy legs. With a deep breath in and the will of his heart, Archibald’s armor shrunk down to the breastplate that covered his chest. The Dauntless lifted his head, defiant over the female. His shoulders squared with perpetual victory and he nodded. ”This was not a battle against you and me. This war had a purpose far above small, nonsensical quarrels. I did this to protect my herd, my family, and I have no mind to banish yours. Their freedom is theirs should they seek it, but they also have refuge beneath our triumvirate. In time, if you want to know the mind behind this war, you may seek me. For now, seek a healer. Resplendence or Alysanne would be willing to help you.” Archibald nodded to the two healers in the distance.

Archibald turned around again, composing his face against wincing with the pain from his leg, and addressed his soldiers. Golden eyes scanned the battlefield. There was a lack of blood, of gore, and most stood staring back at him with blank, bored stares. Agitation flicked his ears down, but finally he sighed. Looking to Kahlua, then to Kaj, Archibald called out, "It is done!”




[WC: 594/800, according to Microsoft Word

PC: Closing Defense]