The Clovenheart, The Little Eye, & The Blood

Before Ashamin could even attack Paradox, she pulled away. Perhaps she had been trying to dodge him, perhaps trying to fight back; Ashamin had no way of knowing. All the Clovenheart knew was that he found his shoulder hitting air, and he was forced to quickly dig his left forehoof into the ground to stabilize himself so he, too, didn’t fall.

The sharp stop, though, caused his hindquarters to swing. The antlers along his spine shifted too, and as if they had a mind of their own—as if they were still fighting without him—one of the antlers shifted lower and managed to cut Paradox’s flesh. Ashamin’s black eyes grew wide, the whites showing in slivers, as fear struck through him. No, not again, not again. He didn’t want to hurt her like this. Only, that was the problem with Ashamin the Clovenheart. He’d never been very good at knowing his own strength, even when he had had none.

Ashamin tried to stumble back and away, but the antlers had slid more to his left and he found himself off balance. When he watched Paradox get up it was like watching a dream, for it did not seem real to him that the mare he’d now hurt so much would still press on. She had spark, he had to give her that. It was clear that Paradox would keep fighting for as long as she had to, and he admired that, but he almost wished she would ask him to stop. Since she wouldn’t, it seemed that he would have to end things.

Just as he was about to though, he saw her foreleg striking forth out of the corner of his eye. Ashamin angled his left shoulder away but he missed her only narrowly. Pulling to his right only barely began to straighten his spinal piece, which felt heavier by the second. Even the weight of his necklace, which usually did not bother the Clovenheart, was wearing on him. Ashamin found his head hanging lower, and his neck feeling stiff. Every once and a while when a charm would swing back and strike the bruise on his chest, he would wonder if they were hitting harder than usual as he winced.

He opened his mouth once more to speak, but Paradox’s lips were open wider. A snort erupted from his nostrils as her teeth clamped unexpectedly on his flank, creating pinprick spots of blood beneath his skin. The bruise was another irritation, but as he sidestepped once more and felt a few hairs pull off of his hide, he knew it was nothing compared to Paradox’s wounds. The mare stood, gravely injured, and all he could complain of was a bruise or two. At the end of this, he would be fine. Ashamin looked at her, bleeding, missing a lock or two now tangled around his antlers, and wondered what could possibly be keeping her going.

At last, though, there was quiet. “I think that’s enough for now,” Ashamin said, his voice calm but scratchy. He tried to ignore the bruises on his chest and side, but their dull aches were persistent. “You should re—“ but he had to stop, for before he could continue and end this, once and for all, his companion charged forward.

Later, it would become clear that Rakt had not meant so much harm. The red cerndyr was merely feeling left out, perhaps a little irritated that his bonded had first banned him from fighting and then proceeded to operate so thanklessly after Rakt had aided him. They would all come to recognize that, just like his bonded, Rakt did not know his own strength. In that moment, however, Ashamin could only shout, anger rushing to his tongue like a wild thing. “Rakt, stop!”

It was too late, though, for the cerndyr was already barreling towards the mare with his head low and swinging, golden antlers aiming for her right gaskin.


""

ashamin, lochan, & rakt