Яikyn

I’m starting to feel like a tree protruding at the fore of a rolling spring avalanche; she’s just kicking my ass, and my efforts to not let it be so easy seeming to have little effect. Instead, my roots were ripped up, and I’m left just swatting down at her with green boughs that seem, at this point, better at basking in the sun than being used to birth bruises and create cuts. I’ve seen it twice, the actual cascade of snow, taking with it whatever wasn’t strong enough to keep its hold; despite the fact that I’m the one with more scars in this conundrum, she a newly birthed river of roaring force, it doesn’t matter.

I’m just a slightly antler-worn tree, and she’s an avalanche.

I never thought I’d seek to empathize with such a thing, but my life tends to teach me the best lessons through violence, it seems; I allege that being an assumptive tree in an avalanche still isn’t as shitty as being a twig in a Wildfire had been, when I’d fought Gaucho. No matter her attempts to swat me aside, to drag me beneath her, I am still here; it hadn’t been so for the man with the fire beasts. Wessex has fought with sinew, with teeth and blade, while the Wildfire… he had only actually touched me once, and that had been to simply punt me across the desert, like I was a stone, or an annoying gnat batted away by his tail, into the waiting, black abyss of unconsciousness.

At least, going blade to blade with Wessex, I felt more capable, even able to outpace her steps at times, and provide fair counter when I couldn’t. Each brutal swing or thrust of her arsenal was met by the agility and physical attributes bred into my through my swift and sturdy lineage. Sure, I was bleeding all over the place and sore everywhere else, but at least I wasn’t being forced to resort to hurling magic at her as I had other fights, fumbling through my proverbial pockets for an extra dagger or trick; it felt fair enough, though I was the worse for wear, because I was doing my best to coast abreast the sweeping strength of her onslaughts. Despite the times I was very much aware I was overpowered, the trained warrior in me knows that, with a few different decisions by either of us, the tide of this battle might have turned in my favor, instead.

I’d underestimated her, as I had almost everyone else. You need think more, Duir dryly remarks from the sidelines, gonna kill you someday.

Snorting, not having time or attention to muster any sort of sass in reply to the asshole cerndyr, I have a moose to conclude combat with. Kicking at her with flimsy strength, I’m glad when my golden hooves hit her, even if they do little more than remind her that I’m not actually a helpless tree caught in her rush; I have sharp and pointy things with which to fight back, and a good amount of wit with which to wield them. Twisting to keep onto her (distance gives her room to kick me again, no thanks) but not get pushed down in the process, my hind-hooves dance beneath me for balance, and I grit my teeth with a sharp inhalation of breath against the impulse to come back down, when my torn and bruised flesh cries out. I am overly eager to cut her open, and retaliate some of the pain that nearly makes me shout out at its rise; successful in my endeavors, she is too. A gasp of surprised pain slips from my mouth at the sensation, more blood dripping to the ground below from where her small horn rends a gash as I make red flow from her neck.

As if the fact that I’m leaking from both sides isn’t enough, the woman makes a final foray; as I move along her flank, deftly doing my best to avoid her hooves, she lets me assume I’m in the clear before her legs shoot out behind her, landing squarely on my ass with a satisfying, resonant muscular smack! that buckles my legs out from under me. Suddenly sliding like a reigning horse out of control, I plant a fore hoof and drag around to face her, my whole backside smarting like hell. Gritting my teeth and hobbling slowly back towards her, quite clearly done with the fight (mostly because my right ass cheek seems to no longer work for the time being), I wryly ask her:

"Sun’s Fire! Are your ancestors rhinos or something?" I almost laugh, but don’t, because every bruise throbs and aches, and the blood slipping down my coat is now painfully obvious.

Closing Defense | 800 Words
Thank you Astor! :D

there's no place to hide down here