[OOC | This battle will be held in the Frostbreath Steppe. It is midday, and sunny, though still ridiculously cold. A new layer of snow has fallen in the night, though it is not deep on their chosen battlefield. An outcropping of rock, several horse lengths long and quite tall, lies at the western edge of their arena. 800 word limit, 4 posts each.]

The day was bright and cold. It was not the cold that bothered the shadow-mare, as she had become quite used to it in the last few weeks. The brightness, however, was new, though it brought little warmth to the land. Of course, she expected no less, with the Sun God banished to the far reaches of the realm. Amber orbs scanned the sky: no clouds in sight. How odd. She was sure that they would roll in before nightfall, once more blanketing the clear blue with dull grey. She would be the first to admit that the dark suited her much better than the light; but she functioned the same in both and so could not complain.

Approaching a previously agreed-upon location, the dark fae glimpsed her sparring companion for the afternoon. Valentine. The name slipped through her mind like a gentle caress. A strange stallion, and one who seemed to enjoy her company - a new concept for the jackal. It was something to consider late at night when her body refused to sleep, thrusting her mind into the chaos of thought. But for now, he was her soldier, her trainee, and her responsibility. For him to survive the coming seasons, which would no doubt be dangerous for some of her recruits, she would need him to be capable. It was more than just looking out for one of her followers; she wanted him to survive as much as she needed him to.

She considered, briefly, the best way to begin this little battle, even as she greeted him with a nicker and a nudge to the shoulder. Dark hooves took a few steps back, movement liquid, flowing, easy. She circled him, eyes critical on his stance. She felt as though she should give some sort of instruction. "This will be the most difficult fight that you will face," she informed him finally. "You've never fought before. Be sure to watch me, closely. Many times one's body will give away movement before it occurs. But don't forget to listen as well. Were we in battle, you would have to guard against others as well." It seemed like enough.

Should she attack first? Well, it would be the best way for him to learn, she supposed. And she would be kind to this steed who had captured her interest: she would give him warning. "And so it begins, darling." She was facing him head on now, having stopped her incessant circles around his frame. A skip forward and to her right had her dancing toward his side. Cranium lowered, gnarled horn aiming for his left shoulder. It was an intricate thing, fighting. One had to move with and against one's opponent all at once. And so it began.

[W/C | 459 | 1/4]

[OOC | Attack - Psyche jumps forward and to Valentine's left, aiming her horn at his shoulder in an attempt to leave a light gash there.]

Horn bit flesh, and she pulled her head back in a quick motion designed to gut an opponent in a real battle; it was a reflexive action, but would have no effect on Valentine, as she had not aimed for his stomach as she would have a real combatant. She pulled away continuing her slow dance around him. It had been too easy to hit her mark, and she eyed him with a look of mixed amusement and disapproval. How would he ever survive in such a bloodthirsty group as the Plague? There's always d'Artagnan's teaching, she reminded herself, orange globes watching the stallion warily. He was talking, another mistake - or perhaps it wouldn't be, with a less experienced opponent than she. As it were, she simply smiled at him with a 'come-hither' expression.

"Are you ready, love?" he warned her before leaping forward. He was to her left, and charged rather clumsily (in her opinion) toward her shoulder. She skipped to her right, dodging the blow rather easily, but was pleased to note that he would have hit her flank rather than her shoulder had she been slower. That was good, making her think one thing while aiming for another. "Not bad," she told him, "But you might not want to warn me you're coming." She turned, keeping him in her sights. It would be dangerous to allow him to catch her unawares. He might hurt her badly on accident, being as inexperienced a fighter as he was.

She found herself migrating toward the rock outcropping to her left, on the western edge of the battlefield. It would be interesting to dodge in and out of the rocks, but she wasn't sure that the steed was quite ready for that. She darted toward him, maw lowered again, aiming this time for the right side of his body. At the last moment, she snapped her head up and nipped at his nape; again, it was not a blow intended to maim, but rather to teach. Should it land, she might take a chunk out of the base of his neck or, if he moved, his shoulder or side. She was playing an interesting game, dancing in and out, not blundering in with brute force. It was designed to tire him first, finish him later.

[W/C | 385 | 2/4]

[OOC | Defense - Psyche dodges Valentine's charge and spins to face him.
Attack - Psyche charges for Valentine's right side, aiming to bite his neck.]

Her teeth grazed his hide, but came away clean; much improved. He was paying attention now. She smiled as she whirled to skitter away, continuing toward the rocks; and so it was that she was surprised to feel a light pain along her side. She started, lunging forward and kicking up, out, towards the source of her little scrape, Valentine's head. It was reflex, really. Her momentum carried her forward, and she dodges between two rocks, circling back around them and into the clearing, intending to confuse him. It was she that had made the mistake that time, in thinking that he would pose no real threat. His first failed attempt at drawing blood had left her assuming that he would be an easy match; and this he might be, if she did not get lazy, as she just had.

The shadow-mare weaved through the outcropping of rocks, careful to keep an eye on Valentine as she did so. After a few minutes of this, sights of her flirting with his vision, disappearing and reappearing amongst the tall, oppressive rock formations, she leaped from her place, having worked her way back to where she originally started weaving through the rocks. This time, she charges headlong for his side, aiming to use the brunt force of her body to push him to the ground. It would leave a bruise on his side, but at worst he would stumble to the ground under her feet. That would be the worst danger of such a move - it was easy to trample an opponent without his feet.

[W/C | 264 | 3/4]

[OOC | Defense - Psyche takes the hit, and ends up with a light scratch along her side; in reaction she kicks blindly toward Valentine's head, more to throw him off than to actually hit him. She darts into the rocks, using them as cover to sneak around him.
Attack - Psyche leaps from the rocks and runs headlong at Valentine, aiming to run into his side and knock him down.]

He was learning. As she emerged from the rocky cover, a burst of darkness from the shadows into a frostbitten world of light, he leaped into an action matching her own. They collided, body on body, ricocheting off each other in reaction to the momentum deflected from their respective chests. A grunt was expelled from her nostrils at the force of the blow, and she found herself half-risen in a rear, turning away, circling backwards as he half fell. She gasped momentarily for air, the breath knocked forcefully from her lungs. But she kept moving, ever moving, for to stop at this point in a match would mean death. A blow struck at this moment could be the last she ever felt, as the gasping turned to panting.

A sheen of sweat glistened over her dark-hued pelt as she danced fluidly sideways. It was a pretty movement, her body bent and her legs moving at a diagonal to Valentine. It was meant to distract him, to make him think she was simply continuing around him; but as she approached she prepared herself to strike again. She lunged forward, aiming a sharp nip to his haunch, and as she wheeled away, she kicked her legs up at his shoulder. It wasn't the kindest of moves, seeing as this was only for practice. But the shadow-mare was caught up in the thrill of combat, blood-lust overwhelming her senses after their last assault.

[W/C | 240 | 4/4]

[OOC | Defense - She circles away from him to catch her breath, keeping an eye on him.
Attack - Psyche lunges for his flank, aiming to bite him, then spins and kicks toward his shoulder.]

This time, she felt his flesh in her teeth, and as she danced away the sharp tang of blood was in her mouth. Her back hooves hit air, missing her target, and landed again, but before she could dart away, his counter attack was on her. She jerked her head, narrowly avoiding a hoof to the face, which could easily leave her badly wounded. But she wasn't quite quick enough to dodge the second kick, which hit her squarely in the shoulder. She winced, but kept moving; it would become quite the nasty bruise, but it wouldn't cause any lingering damage. Pulling away from the light stallion, distancing herself, she called a halt. "Not bad, my dear," she told him, slightly out of breath. The fight had felt good; she hadn't sparred in far too long, save the Battle of the Edge.

[W/C | 142 | Closing Defense]

[OOC | Defense - She avoids a kick to the head but takes a hit to her shoulder, then runs to put distance between them.]