As recognizable as her painted spots had been in Arbutus' faint red light, I have made the mistake of approaching from behind, where she cannot recognize my features in the slightest. She kicks out swiftly and my natural instinct is to turn and run. As of late, however, my natural instincts have yielded less than stellar results. Besides, Onni is sure to recognize the misunderstanding and cease the fighting after she turns to face me. So, fighting the reflex, I instead make a split second decision , and my hind hooves lift gently off the ground before landing once more and bringing my front up towards the sky. My neck twists uncomfortably as I avoid the kick, but as quick thinking as I am, I'm no mage. Onni's attack, afforded an advantage by surprise, clips me across the chest, leaving a shallow cut sustained from the sharp edges of her hoof that quickly matts my beard with blood.

All I can think is how I am not meant for this. These twists and turns, this fighting instinct, all seems unnatural to me. Arbutus, concerned for my welfare, flies across the path of the empty air between us to my left side with a piercing cry, his warm flames brushing the cut and leaving it with a strange, stinging sensation. My hooves lower to the ground buoyantly as Onni's own hooves land once more, and I part my lips to call out her name and cease her action.

But the opportunity is gone too quickly, and a rush of surprise takes away my breath and words. With a surprising buoyancy, I push off once more from the ground to place myself in a rear and copy Onni's movements. She turns and I feel numb with the anticipation of her movements. Will she lower herself upon recognition, or, in the dark, will she not know me at all?

Less than a second later, as I shuffle my hind hooves to stay balanced, her rear turns into a flurry of fierce kicks, and I am left with no defense but the offense. I feel the familiar pain of a kick across my shoulder and my pointed, cloven fore hooves strike out wildly for the base of her neck. I hear myself neigh not with the pain of Onni's attacks or the weakness that plagues my own hocks, for Iris has built my tolerance to be high, but the fury. As unexpected as it is, I find myself understanding, to some extent, the meaning of the fight. In the dark of the night we are all unwanted visitors, no matter our relations in the light of day.

Arbutus, misunderstanding the situation and not recognizing the painted daughter of our leader, dashes forward, leaving behind him a trail of fire and light. It is too late to make him stop- He flies towards Onni with his talons open and ready, like an owl swooping down to catch its helpless prey upon the ground, and his flaming wings beating heavily across Onni's. I feel a panicked sensation, but all at once know that I cannot stop. As a child I had never fought back, but now I knew better. Whether my strikes are fueled by skill and determination or fear and an uncontrolled and unrecognized fury, they are there nonetheless, and I'm not sure if they going to cease.

[[ Tares receives the kick as a graze across her chest, as she has turned away from it. Lands, rears quickly to face Onni and receives blows to her shoulder, but counters with her own to the base of the neck. At the same time, Arbutus flies forward and approaches Onni's left wing with talons intending to grab and hinder its movements, while his wings beat down to burn her feathers. || WC: 564 || P: 1/3 || C/M-U: 1/2 || Note: Thanks again so much, Boom. :) ]]