There is satisfaction in their movements of war before there is disappointment. Loretta's teeth sink into the flesh of the Tiger God before them, and the taste of iron--hot and warm and alluring--sends waves of determination through her body. Though small compared to this savage beast, the cur was as fierce as could be. In her heart, so closely tied to that of the Dauntless, she would always be ready and willing to battle, wage war, bring death. Even in the days when Archibald made her sit aside from his spars, she yearned to match his stride well and help him bring his opponents to their knees. The fact that their opponent now was a god did not change that. Loretta was as loyal to Archibald as she was her own self, and it would be hard to change that.

But someone, something managed to do so. The emotions that flowed between two hears and the thoughts that sparked between two minds severed, leaving a hollow space in the warlord's mind and a more primitive wall erected in the dog's.

As Archibald slammed into the Tiger he felt the hot, sticky tar run through the seams of his armor. An angry roar of pain left his throat and he thrust his body forward, trying to move away from the tar (that would eventually become fire around him). As he moved, the spot Loretta took up in his soul was suddenly gone. Panic rose in his heart like bile in the back of his throat, and vehemence boiled unbridled in his chest. Another roaring neigh left his throat, and through his pain the Dauntless shoved his weight forward and delivered a debilitating kick toward the Tiger God's back leg with his own, shod hind hoof. Simultaneously, Archibald summoned his magic to seize the tigress and turn her bones to stone.

"Loretta!" Archibald called out, golden eyes searching for his companion. He heard her yelp loudly, and watched as she staggered away from the tar and the tigress as the black substance--so like the ooze that dripped from his face not long ago--burst to flame. The red and white dog moved to safety, and out of the corner of his eye Archibald watched as a black and white figure was thrown to the ground. Loretta was behind it--it, being Roskuld, Archibald realized--and quickly the titan moved to get between the demigod and the tigress. OPHELIA! his mind screamed, golden eyes searching for the mother of this filly that lay grumbling in the lush grasses. Turning his massive body, Archibald lowered his head and waited like a mountain before Roskuld, ready to protect her with his life. As he did so, Archibald was covered in the familiar sensation of burned, ripped, demolished skin and muscle being stitched back together.