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I am not sensible. A sensible lady, as Kri was thinking, would be hidden away from the storm. But my name is because of my recklessness at times, and for my love of the storms. One does not become ‘Stormchaser’ by only chasing blue skies.
My massive wings beat slowly and surely. They flap more unerringly then they did not so long ago. But when Kri thinks of leadership as a burden, I think of it as an honor. I am not humble, I will not lie, but neither am I a cocky asshole like the white unicorn who called himself Tribute, one of the last trespassers onto Foothills land before I was so ungracefully tossed from my throne and kicked into the wet, sopping mud that sucked at my limbs until I thought I would drown. This mud, of course, is the metaphor for anger and embarrassment.
I try to recall what Leander has told me of this ‘Kri’, try to attribute it to this face. What had he said? Things are not well here. I somehow doubt he would put this staple to himself. So maybe it was meant towards Kri’s leadership. Only a few moments later did he say Kri was not the leader he thought her to be. That he may leave the Throat himself in order to evade this mare whose legend was ‘the Resolute’. How did that concept apply to her in battle? Did it means, perhaps, she attacked more upfront, less feinting and movement? Or did the name come from an iron will to follow through? Leander had said something of her temper and its unruliness, her inability to keep in check, the temper that drove off the Artisan. Maybe that is something I can work on, but maybe not.
My black eyes settle on her shape far below, a small sodden chocolate-brown dot that unfurls earth-brown wings. I do wonder if she has fought in aerial combat before. Where does she come from? Certainly she would not have fought from the air in her alliance with the Qian to take over the Edge. How could she, when the Edge are unicorns and locked to the earth? I know the skies and I know what restrictions my body has, but does she?
The little brown raindrop approaches and grows in size until it is no so much a droplet as a mare. Small, maybe, but compact. I would not doubt in physical, we are equals, but mental is half of the battle. She does not seem much older than me, but then again, we are both aged in our minds, I do not doubt. I circle, wings coming down and dislodging a thousand glittering droplets of rain from the night black feathers. Just as my black mane sticks, sodden, to my neck, so does her once-flaxen one, now turned more gray by the lighting and wet.
I wonder just how stupid I’ve been, before I stall again in the air, wings constantly pushing and pulling at the air to keep me aloft. I am weakened by my treatment of the Basin, even though I have been healed and now my sides have filled out.
“We are all fools, Kri, aren’t we?” I call out in return, for it is true. We have all done something wrong at one point or another.
She comes in quick, the wind twisting around her to shoot her forward like a stone from a slingshot. My ears are flattening to pin to my soaked neck as she ever increases in speed towards me. Her wings are extended for full glide, but she started below me. In flight, you always want to be above the other.
I curse my slow reaction, but how could I expect her to be host to wind magic? There is a shift in muscle as I power downwards, my wings heaving to hoist me up higher, up to the advantage of being above. Flight is all quick reactions, like the two crows harrying each other I once watched. But she angles above me, and her teeth score my poll, drawing crimson blood. There is pain, as there will always be, but I ignore it. The muscles of my wings strain as hooves kick me, before I am flying up.
Rain pours into my eyes, smearing my vision and stinging, and it washes uncomfortably into the wounds upon my neck. I come dropping out of the sky on top of her, at least, I hope that is her in this shifting light. I do not want to break her wing, for if I do, she may die. So I flare my wings ever so slightly above the dark smear I believe is the mare, so instead of bone-breaking, I will only maim.
WC: 800
Other: 1/4
sometimes i wonder what i'm trying to do in this life.
but mostly i just want to fly.
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Nothing to Lose [Kri Challenge]
