The truth had been exposed, like a broken bone peering out from bloody skin. If the bone was not forced back into place, it would never heal the way it was meant to be.

Kid’s laugh registers but faintly on her ears as the shadows creep in, long and dark. The sun is still far from its zenith—night still casts a faint shroud over the steadily brightening sky. She is not worried about the dark; Lilómiel is nearby, and his ruby gaze has the same capabilities as any owl.

You will not participate in this, Nym tells him firmly. I don’t doubt this will be a savage fight, but you should not interfere. It is between Colt and I.

The dragon tightens his grip on the branch of the tree he’s perched on; his tail lashes in ritual disagreement. I am part of you, he responds; those who fight you fight me. For a moment the anger that clouds the wolf’s rationality is overshadowed by a piercing sense of love; and then she returns her attention back towards the compact Quarter Horse. There wasn’t the time for an argument, and she’d prefer to focus on the savage little bitch in front of her. She didn’t trust her. It was all too likely that Colt would try to make the first move—try to jump her, try to stab her in the back… the possibilities were infinite, and Nymeria would fall prey to none of them. Nym would move first—Nym would strike her down and prove that she was a more than capable teacher.

And then she’d take Kid away from this.

Then she’d teach him and love him as fiercely as he deserved.

You’ll need to prove to me that you’re worthy.

Nymeria, stone-eyed and dead-faced, allowed some life to come bleeding into her spectacularly calloused features. A low and mocking smile flickered across her lips, curling up the corner of her mouth; it was an obvious answer, an issued challenge.

For a moment there is silence and there is peace, broken only by errant birdsong. Nymeria’s gaze flickers over their surroundings, judging the footing and hunting for any rocks or obstructions that might be her unwitting downfall. Luckily the ground is even, made up of shed pine needles and a scattering of rotted leaves; the fight would come down to skill rather than luck.

There would be no warning shout or final look of acceptance before the unlikely meeting turned towards battle. Instead of verbally acknowledging Colt’s demand Nymeria launched herself at the other mare in a full-fledged gallop. Nymeria attempted to line up face-to-face with Colt; she shifted her trajectory just slightly to her left, so that her right shoulder would hopefully align with the center of Colt’s chest. As the distance between them diminished, she turned her head towards her left (Colt’s right) in effort to avoid colliding heads; and then she drove herself off her hindlegs towards Colt, thrusting her right shoulder forward. By elevating her forelegs and throwing all her weight into the motion, Nymeria attempted to smash the shelf of her right shoulder into the lower part of Colt's windpipe, near to where her neck tapered into her chest. With her superior height, weight, and strength, she thought she should have a good chance of severely damaging or (even better) crushing the other mare’s windpipe. When her forelegs would inevitably return to the ground, Nymeria would attempt to scrape Colt’s forelegs with her forehooves.

This was not a time for compassion or mercy.

She expected Colt to return the favour.