It has been so long since exhaustion found her. She runs the mountains almost daily, pushing herself to new limits, trying to find exhaustion close to what she feels now. There’s no replicating the feeling of a fight though. The heat sits like a blanket around her shoulders, dragging her down, coating her skin in sweat. The pain is constant, persistent, and distracting. Weaver is not one to shy away from pain, but her front end is screaming, her mind ping-ponging between her neck and her shoulders and the fight at hand.

She is exhausted, but this battle is far from over. Her attack hits, bruised and battered forelegs finding their target, and she swears she can hear something crunch beneath her hooves. Agony blooms in her legs and injured shoulders, stealing away the thrill she would otherwise feel at such a fantastic hit. Well, stealing away some of that thrill, because she can’t ignore the crunch of bone. It’s a beautiful sound to her ears, and power fills her veins. How can she not feel powerful in such a moment, when her insignificant size can reap such damage to The Indomitable?

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches him stumble, and a smile curves her lips for a brief moment before Raven’s warning wipes it away. She’d almost forgotten this battle isn’t over. Maybe he would fall and stay there. What a beautiful sight that would be, the Sultan of the Throat a crumpled mass on the scorched earth. Not that she really expects such a miracle to ever occur. Weaver is aware of her shortcomings, particularly in this battle. All she has is endurance, and that is fast fading. She’s done most of the moving, playing into what likely was Volterra’s plan all along.

It’s in moments like these she wishes Raven could talk, could tell her exactly what he’s warning her about. They don’t yet share words though, so Weaver does the only thing that comes to mind; she shifts into a raven. Her muscles and bones twist and break into new forms, making her smaller and lighter and a whole lot harder to hit. She’s never used this form in battle before because it’s not that powerful. Unlike Ker or the dragons that are after her, Weaver lacks overly large talons or powerful jaws, though they are certainly not useless.

The simple change in her size and shape is enough to escape the oncoming doom from the two dragons. Well, it’s enough to escape most of the oncoming doom, anyway. Vadir’s electric breath shoots above Weaver from her right side, missing entirely. Weaver can’t help but be glad for that, and she’d smile except for the beak now in her way. Vérzés is more successful, his teeth finding her wing, though thankfully he doesn’t find any particularly important bits of it. The dragon’s teeth clamp down on the feathers toward the tip of her wing, taking some of them with him. It hurts, but at this point, it’s such a minimal hurt she doesn’t even care. She wobbles in the air for a moment as the feathers come loose, but she’s able to regain steady flight, though her wing throbs now as well.

She can’t help but think that Volterra really is indomitable though, and jealousy consumes her with the thought. He is large and powerful, with at least some magic that she knows of, and two killing machines for companions. The unfairness of it all hits her, fueling her to keep fighting, reminding her that she’s got so much to prove. The heat and the pain had begun to drain the determination that sends her to the battlefield time and time again. Now though, she finds it again, turning her course to aim for the top of Volterra’s neck, right behind his ears.

Weaver has no delusions that she can win. She is not The Indomitable, and she never will be. She can be a worthwhile opponent though, and perhaps he will remember her as that scrappy little thing with a bite just as big as her bark. She wants to retort to their ongoing banter, but she’s still not used to talking with a beak, so instead she simply dives. Forget words, forget flirting, she would speak in the most primal language they had. She dives toward her target, talons outstretched in an attempt to rip skin, beak snapping at mane or skin if she can catch it. She’s trying, as best she can, to avoid his eyes and ears, having no intentions to do that kind of damage in a spar. Blinding the Sultan of a neighboring herd is definitely not on her to-do list today, even if beating him up is.

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Attack 3/3 - Words 791
Summary:
- Weaver shifts to a raven, and Vérzés bites the tip of her left wing and take some feathers out
- Weaver attempts to bite/scratch at the top of Volterra’s neck