Flames writhed and curled madly like ravenous wildfire through the long, oil-slick grey mane cascading down the medic’s elegant, erect neck and the motionless black tail between clenched hocks – though harmless they were, entirely. The twisted, darkened time offered quite a significant disadvantage to the dapple grey’s situation in this awful invasion, but Africa figured it could only help her Hidden Falls brethren and drew what little courage she could from that confidence alone.

The inexperienced mare was terrified in truth, desperate to see her collared lover descend like an archangel to pull his clan - their family - from the pitiless jaws of the north. Not yet had the connection been made between the black Edge stallion’s arrival at the entrance to her home moments before, and this clash she now faced with Arah. The Starry-Eyed saw nothing but a personal vendetta, a cruel face born from the ugliest of days that drew nothing less than hatred from a mild, passive soul. The shining scar across the socket from which her wing should still have extended, seemed to throb like new as images of that Frostfall came to life all over again in a mind not long ago numbed. Every inch of the puddly grey canvas pulled tight around her bones, seemed to tingle with fury reborn - haunting pain.

As she fought to compose her balance, eyes slipped to the side of the silver-laden mare - her eyes, glistening in the firelight. With no trace of the malice expected, cheer lathering her tone, Arah retraced aloud the memory of Sinuhe’s traumatic passing and the Starry-Eyed felt heat pour through her face. The cold rain did little to soothe the growing anger as her sloping cheeks flushed red - always, she wore her emotions on her sleeve. Teeth ground together heavily and her long, elegant neck stiffened. ’Imagine what we’ll do as we invade you…’ the other seemed to grin. “No…” came the medic’s whispered realisation, though the intention of the north was at that point, entirely obvious. Her eyes roamed vaguely, blinded by the building sorrow in her heart.

The swift, sparkling descend of her fearless companion seemed to end almost as suddenly - appeared to collide with an invisible mass. Africa’s radiating light had not revealed the approach of the shrieking Griffin in the night. Silas’s open talons filled with the other creature’s feathers, fur, and he sank his powerful grip into whatever purchase had been found. Though his attempt to drive Arah’s companion off course had been successful, he had not anticipated the surge of magic to follow; the relentlessness of the Griffin’s attack. Violet eyes swooped to find the mares beneath - the white circling, and his beloved dithering, dragging a limb. His piercing cry rose through a drying sky, but it was further distraction neither he or his bonded could truly afford.

All in the same moment, the claws of the Griffin sank into the Roc’s feathered breast. Much like the magic used to kill long ago by Deimos, evil pooled around the joined bodies - seeped beneath skin of the mythical bird - and began quickly to sap him of energy. Silas’ powerful wingspan began to wilt, and his body grew heavy. Without the other’s grip upon him he would sink like a boulder to the churned up battle-field below.

As her companion’s strength failed above, Africa felt a wave of fatigue swell through her mind. Her bright, sandy-hued eyes fluttered exhaustedly and she failed in that moment, to notice the launch of the white Basin mare’s next assault. Perhaps even if she had realised the other’s intent, she might not have had the energy to react anyway. The blur of movement behind caught her eye as her skull swung backwards and forwards confusedly, low then to the ground. Her regal crest bent left as her long, flaming tail flicked right, and there like a devil in the night was the other mare approaching - antlers set low - intent, it seemed, on impaling her hindquarters.

Desperation reached a climax and she hurled her head back in the opposite direction, wing extended, driving her forequarters around to her right. Arah’s head-rack did not slow and every prong impaled between the stiff feathers of her open wing - the lowest on one side and perhaps the strongest of all, lancing the skin of the limb’s upper arm and tearing away both flesh and the lightweight, brittle bone.

Africa screamed agony into the night, and tears spewed from clenched eyes as she sent again her snapping jaws to find any trace of her enemy’s skin between armour. The broken wing tucked in part to her side, but it would be forevermore useless… another bloody trophy for the north.

---

800/800 (Apple’s Pages)
1/3

Summary:
Wynter sapped Silas’ energy.
Arah’s antlers impaled Africa’s wing.
Africa responded weakly by trying again to bite.

Magic:
None used…