"One Day, I Shall Live By the Code of Honor."
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There was that horn again, fulfilling its job to the best of its ability, cutting just above the acolyte’s right shoulder and just underneath the wither. Laila was in no position to shy away from it, charging as she was into the great behemoth; she was forced to allow the tip to graze her skin, to shred it and give another laceration to the already battered and beaten filly. She sucked in her breath, tensing against the pain; the chilled, salt-bitter air didn’t help to comfort it, biting into it instead with every gust that wafted over the wound. It was shallow—and it was its shallowness that afforded its pain. Yes, it was painful, and as Laila stretched her neck to clamp her jaws into the skin of her enemy, the cut was stretched taught, and the ebony filly’s eyes leaked some in her distress.
Her efforts weren’t for naught, however. Laila’s teeth found their target, and she was able to latch onto her opponent for some time, her teeth clamping down with all the ferocity she could muster in the instantaneous heat of battle. If she had it her way, Laila would’ve aimed to pierce the skin of the invader and wring the life out of her, as a coyote might shake the life from the kitten between its jowels—but this was nothing more than a daydream of hate. Yes; in those moments, Laila hated the mare with all of her young , compassionate heart. It was a fire so corrosive, so all-consuming, that when the intruder reared out of the acolyte’s grasp, Laila reared alongside her in an effort to brutally continue her attack. Keep close, whispered a voice in her mind, the voice of reason and battle-calm, the horn can’t pierce you if you’re too close. Be wary of her teeth! Mind the hooves, watch out--
In her blind rage, Laila had missed the invader’s forehoof lashing out into the mist, a lightning bolt aimed for the ebony filly’s head. With sheer, dumb instinct, Laila shied her head away to the left, and her neck and chest were exposed in those breathless heartbeats; the hoof-tip of the invader battered Laila once more, assaulting her right shoulder and aggravating the cut that had been planted only moments before. If there had been no blood previously, there was certainly some now—tiny droplets blooming against her obsidian hide, before finally spilling over down her chest, further painting her body in crimson. There was a fraction of a second, barely more than the blink of an eye, where Laila attempted to turn back and face the body of her attacker and once more attempt to plant a punishing bite somewhere on that ivory form—
--but the warrior mare beat her to it.
Long, brick-like teeth clamped hold onto the acolyte’s right ear, and the panic burst from Laila’s mind from behind the curtain of calm. She aimed to tear away from the warrior’s teeth, from this pure, mind-numbing agony, but in doing so she only made it worse; a sickening zsnick! resounded in the air, and something in Laila’s mind and body told her that her ear felt different…and that it would forever feel different, ruined by the invader’s fangs. The acolyte had gotten her secret wish; she now bore the mark of a soldier.
What came next was a mess of red haze, a clogging blurriness that left Laila feeling as though she were trapped underwater. Whether it was rage, or the return of her cool intuition, the acolyte could not say--only it felt as though time slowed and her heart took hours to beat. She became uncomfortably aware of the blood that streamed down her leg and the trails of crimson falling from her newest wound; how her left flank throbbed in a controlled rhythm, how she suspected a bruised rib in that area; how her ear, her poor, massacred ear fell into two pieces as she snatched it out from the warrior mare’s maw, one shred falling away from the main body, a flopping, contemptuous allusion to the derelict state of the filly that caused waves upon waves of explosive torture so intense, it didn’t even feel like pain. No, it was a mild buzz, a sedative that sent her mind vaguely numb and sleepy—and somewhere Laila realized she was nearing the end of her game.
Returning to ground and pivoting her body to the left, Laila aimed a kick towards her enemy’s chest once more, but it was a half-hearted attack—for the filly was beaten down, and close to her defeat.
[W/C: 800
4/4]
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[O] No dawn, no day [Judge] [INVASION]
