My mind sips from the brackish pool of memory. Out of boredom I'd subconsciously chosen my dearly departed mother as a source for fixation. Which, it was quite untrue to think of her as, 'dearly departed.' No, that vixen wasn't dead. In all likelihood, my momma was out in the world maneuvering someone; feeding like a leech off their insecurities. Still, it's natural for me to think of her in such a distant, unobtainable way. Probably because I wouldn't ever lay eyes on her again; or be aware of the problematic brothers and sisters her unchecked sport would spawn. No. It was just me, myself, and I.

Still...this youthful heart did stupidly long for the company of her presence -- however brief.

Lost in the blissful realm of 'me;' I didn't notice the alarming rate at which another individual approached. Her footsteps, though bold and unmasked -- are conveniently muffled by the tropical thunder. When I did notice; it was from the corner of one eye as she was barreling for my little cavern. This adolescent stare flicks to the sleek, rain soaked ripple of her shoulders and breast. I waste precious moments tracing droplets of rain gliding down the mature, feminine shape of her developing muscles. Hot dang, was my first impression. Gems shoot their confusion to that ivory mask with increasing alarm when the girl DIDN'T slow -- my late second view was, 'your getting c-.'

When her powerful frame rears, successfully blocking the light I automatically cringe back into the cave. A sharp pain deflects my rump from retreat; somewhere in the dark a jagged piece of old coral on the far wall tries to stab into the fleshy meat of my left buttock. "WHAT TH-" The curse dies on my tongue as her rearing toes break through that narrow opening. My crown slides left, instinctively defending itself from the coming blow. Sadly, this inexperienced right shoulder is bare; anticipation only brightens my fear. The creamy wing tightens just as a her crazed forehoof digs down into the soft skin. (Though the blow didn't break my fleshcoat, in fact, it would only leave a bruise.) The sudden onset of pain sends a startled cry from my throat, magnified because of fucking box we're in! Both ears slice back against my skull, searing fury for this injustice, replaces anxiety and fear -- it rises like a hot wave to meet her insanity.

The wind circling this body is unknowingly (to me) providing a cushion, armored protection to soften the dull scrape of that first attack. Those eyeball poking weapons spiraling from her forehead are aimed to preform experimental surgery. I meet her scalpel head on, or rather, horn on. My antlered crown tips down, aiming all jeweled prongs in the direction of those pale swords. DEFLECT. Her size is overwhelming when blocking a tiny entrance. I need to get out from under these cliffs. "Bitc-," my tongue slips out from under a raspy breath; hardly loud enough to be noticed above the waves and rain.

These lips unclamp, but my teeth are still clinched hatefully together as this cranium sinks below my breast with my antlers still pointing at an angle. I thrust forward, pushing hard off my hindquarters and attempting to collide with her chest; hopefully to drive this witch from my den -- so I can also emerge and kick the ever-living shit out of her.