She is almost disappointed by Lady Luck’s kindness through this battle. Almost, mind you. She enjoys that her attacks hit, not because she wants to harm her General, but because she wants to leave this battle having proven she is worth something. That tiny little Weaver isn’t a waste of time, that she has a place in the Basin’s army. Because she’s built more like a sneak, thinks more like a sneak, but stealing is far from the same as fighting. One feels like a child’s game (hard, but still a game). The other feels like living.

But she is, in a strange way, disappointed that she’s managed to escape his attacks. It feels wrong. How can she prove anything if she’s fighting a battered and bruised opponent when she’s nearly fresh as a daisy? Sure, the mud sucks at her energy, but she had more endurance than him to start with, and he’s fighting the mud too. On that, they are even. To  prove herself, she needs to bleed as well. She needs to show him she can fight through the pain, that she won’t give up when the going gets tough. It’s beautiful to escape harm, but it’s not how most fights go.

Her horns scrape against his flesh, tearing it apart. His blood tips her horns in crimson, though the rain is quick to wash it away. It is satisfying, as it is always satisfying, to land a blow. The cut from her tallest horn is long and beautiful. But it’s beginning to feel like a hollow victory. Unfair. Don’t get her wrong, she’s not against playing unfairly, but that hadn’t been her intention today. Well, not unless she had been getting her ass handed to her.

He’s the one with lacerations in his side and bruises on his rump and he’s still fighting. He’s not a failure. He is anything but a failure. And if she knew his thoughts now she’d fly about and try very hard to kick some sense into his head. Literally. Because he’s hurting and sluggish and she is not, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s the one proving himself right now. He is a General, he is a warrior, and she doesn’t doubt it.

He comes at her again, teeth barred toward her right flank. She’s already moving forward so she does her best to speed up despite the mud. At this point, she’s hoping his injuries have slowed him enough she can outrun him. The gamble almost pays off. His teeth come down along her tail instead, grazing her rump. The pain is instantaneous, a burning fire she didn’t know he possessed. But most of his bite gets her tail, and worse than the pain is the smell of burning hair. Her tail sizzles, the hair dying beneath whatever magic he wields.

A hiss of annoyance escapes through closed teeth. “I like my tail,” she growls, wanting to turn and attack him for the sheer fact he burnt away her tail. That would be the injury she’d have Mortuus fix. Not cuts or bruises, but her burnt tail. It makes her vain, but she doesn’t care, she is very fond of her wild beauty. And now she’s just charred.

But she’s got to hand it to him, that is an impressive bit of magic. The edge of her right butt cheek burns. It’s the worst hit she’s taken, but still, not very much. It doesn’t slow her down. No, she chooses to slow, turning to try and face her General, nodding to him in respect. Perhaps Lady Luck had helped her escape his attacks, but that didn’t make her the better fighter. It made her lucky. And she wasn’t trying to be lucky. She was trying to be impressive, to be worth something, to be fearsome. This was a start, but it was nothing more than a start. She could do better. She could get pummeled and sliced as he did and keep going.

The cuts sting in the rain, her rump still feels like it’s on fire, but as a whole, she is unscathed. Just tired, but she should be tired. Yet despite being largely clear of wounds, she feels like she’s the one who lost. It was not enough. She is not enough. But she will be.

***
720 Words
Summary:
- Erebos bites her rump/tail, burning the edge of her right rump but largely burning her tail

Final Injury Report:
- Small bruise on croup
- Small cut on right haunch, slightly burned right rump, burnt tail

- weaver -