OOC| Backdated to no moon/winter.

God, how does this hurt so much? How am I so stupid? What did I do to deserve this? I don't what kind of cruel game this is but I don't like it. Ricochet, I hate you. I hate you with every ounce and fiber of my being. I hope some day you run into something much bigger and much stronger and it kicks your ass. I hope it tortures you and toys with you and makes you scream for mercy that won't come. I hope all of these things happen. But most of all, I hope I never have to see you ever again.

Kahlua was hurt, blood splattering her hide and bruises were everywhere, though they were somewhat hidden beneath her thick winter coat. In particular, her hind right leg was especially bloody. Eight punctures wounds, from two bites by Ricochet's stupid dog, were scabbed over with dried blood trailing down her leg from them. There were also two long scrapes on the same limb from Ricochet's hooves tearing up her flesh. Blood trickled down her withers that seemed to come from nowhere- Ricochet's blood from when she had reared and caused his teeth to smash together. She limped on most of her limbs, her two forelimbs badly damaged and the pain in her hind right leg making walking difficult. She was a mess like she had never been before and was disgusted.

Limping step after limping step took her away from the center of the field where she had been, towards the trail that had brought her from ground up the mountainside. Somewhere in the midst of the spar she had been a part of the blizzard below had broken. It was a blessing- if she had tried to a traverse a blizzard in a state as she currently is in she would have died. No questions asked. For now she thanked the gods, something she had never done before, and took a first step onto the gravel path leading down to the mainland and flat earth. As she took her first step, she suddenly realized this trip was going to be more precarious than she had originally realized. The downward slope of the path was altering her weight distribution and putting more pressure on the swollen soft tissue of her forelimbs.

Each step she took forward was agonizing, despite the fact that she tried to bend her hocks and keep as much of weight on her hind end as possible. A few times when she took a step she screamed, being unable to hold in the cry of pain that welled up in her throat. She hugged the wall as she went down, afraid that if she stumbled she would fall over the edge of the mountain path to her untimely end. The lamp-trees along path lit her way, although dimly. A fight was bad enough- a fight and then a test of her strength immediately after was almost heart-breaking to the mare. She was no warrior and she had no desire to be one. She was a trophy wife, not meant for the back-breaking labor of sparring.

The trip took hours- at least three times as long as it had taken her to get up the first time. Even the roaring blizzard had not slowed her as much as the wounds. The one thing she was thankful for was the snow, though. The blizzard had left plenty of snow and each time she let one of her injured limbs step into it she was icing her wounds. The pain was dulling away, for now. Still, each step was preying on her already drained reserves. Each step she took pushed her a little closer to knowing that she could go no further. Then one step came and she knew she could go no further, but she was lucky. That same step was the step that brought her back to earth, off the rocky path and down onto flat ground. She would have whinnied in excitement but she had no energy left to do so. Instead, she took two steps to move her out of the way of the path and closer to the nearby lamp-tree then laid herself down in the snow, tucking her legs under herself but reaming upright by leaning herself against the lamp-tree. For now, she would rest. Later, she would begin the long and arduous journey back to the World's Edge.