My breath was like a smog in the air, warm and drifting in the light of the moon freckled by shadows of the small, budding leaves on short, stubby trees. The altitude of the Basin was high, the air thin, the cold, unwelcoming teeth of the cold sinking in to my weathered flesh. I felt my lungs exhale the pine and the snow, warmed by the spirit of my beating heart, soothing and steady in my chest and mind.

Unfamiliar territory, unknown passes. Short trees and locked air. This was no terrain that was suitable to me. I am reminded of my battle with Vikram in the World's Edge, but at least he had chosen an area near to a cliff-face. Here, I may as well be in a cage. If not for this cell of trees, however, the hoof beats of my captor may have been lost. Her approach, as well, may have taken me by surprise. It is her haste that ultimately betrays her, for the plodding of her hooves echoes against the bark of the near by shrubbery and trunks, the sound of wardrums increasing their pace with measured, viciously intended time.

Ears flicker backward, and I begin to move, my own body jetting forward from a standstill and waking my screaming, cold muscles in the still air, trying to buy enough time to glance behind me and catch her silhouette in the darkness, seeing her mane gleam in ethereal light as she dances toward my right, a dangerous curve downward and a knife to my back.
I could almost laugh. These fucking people, always trying to shove their words between my shoulders.

With excitement rushing through my veins, I cease to feel the cold surrounding me. The time for action is now; the time for weakness will come after I am dead. I push off my legs toward the left, sinking on the opposite end of a tree, my right wing brushing up against it uncomfortably, a small feather tugging out into the bark, while putting the thick wall of wood between my flank and her horn. With any luck, she would stab herself stuck. Serves the bitch right. If I had been looking for a fair fight, I should have known better than to trust and underling of Psyche and a thief. Knowing that I will not be safe from advances behind for long, I continue to race forward, hoping she was slowed by my tree-tactics long enough to put suitable space between us.

I skid to a rough, abrupt halt, allowing my weight to shift downward into my sturdy back legs, agilely throwing my front end around, putting myself toward the direction from which the shadow had emerged. In the dull light of the moon, despite all of the adjustments my eyes have made in this god forsaken night, shadows are still hard to pull apart from the trees and shrubs, let alone the elegant body of my attacker. I continue to rush forward, attempting to find her in the night.

Uncertain if the flash of crimson is just my wishful thinking or the actual mane of Faelene, I position myself around a particularly unicorn-looking shadow, trying to keep a distance between myself and the sword on her head. I attempt to attack this would-be right side of Faelene by rushing past, aiming to keep a good half-wings length away from what I thought her barrel, before diving my right shoulder toward the shaded figure of a flank in the dark. She may be larger in size, but my tank-like build would not feel good crushing upon her, no matter how large a difference. At the same time, my neck curves down, estimating upon this taller mare where the back of her hock and gaskin would be, teeth seeking flesh to latch down upon, my head shaking about violently like a dog with its kill.

Whatever intentions I had to play fair were gone.
I needed to get out of here, whether that meant crippling my foe or not, for those who had entrusted me their hearts were waiting.

[ WC: 689; 1/4; MC: 0/2; Kri is using buffs SWIFT and NUMB. ]

Not often do I take delight in injuring another being, but right now, as my ears settle down against my neck in determination, I feel the joy rising. For too long had I let the scum of the Basin take from my home, my allies, my heart. Was it not this pecky little crimson-maned bitch that came with the bay to plead for neutrality? I remember her now, looking so disdainfully down on me as I accused her kin of being the instigators. If I had any vindication, it would be now. The Basin if filled with nothing but liars, thieves, murderers, and whores. I am no longer frightened, just pissed off. Sugar coated words be damned. Even if I am too late, Psyche and her little play things would pay for their crimes. I will start with this girl who dares to stand in my way. She will be paying for ill-placed loyalty. I almost pity her.
Almost.

My shoulder connects, body short and stocky, even in length, when compared to my captor's. My body jars as it comes to a sudden halt against her body, but I am plenty thick and sturdy to weather such forces. Her step toward me does little to hinder my attack, and her horn captures little but a small portion on my right flank. The blade cuts into my flesh, but I do not feel the pain in the midst of my attacks, my fury. The blood spills onto a bay coat in the dark, but I do not feel it. I only feel the flesh that is grasped between my teeth as I grin viciously around her leg, attempting to hold on even as she kicks up, allowing my neck to be craned upward, feeling the painful rattle in my skull and spine as she does so. Her limb flails uncomfortably but ineffectively against my neck and upper chest. I sneer.
Yes, little girl, tear your legs away from me. Tear your precious ligaments and muscles and break your bones.
Render yourself useless. Please do.

Dark eyes snap shut as a tail reaches out for my face, not attempting to fight as the stain of crimson slaps me heavily. It is a terrible sting, to be slapped in the face by a tail, so I attempt to return the favor, blond tail reaching upward after the fleeing horn she had pressed into my flank. A bitch slap for a bitch slap. Nothing that would stop my opponent, but if I managed to destroy her back leg, that would not matter much anyway, now would it? As Faelene's hooves come down from her kick, I loosen my jaw's clamp, regardless of whether or not flesh still lingered there, but if it had come with me, it would be kept prisoner no longer.

I move forward, my hooves flashing out toward the dark right side, a cowkick as I move, hoping to hit her behind the shoulder, onto the sensitive portion of her ribs, our height difference likely bringing them closer toward her underbelly. If not able to crack her ribs, perhaps I could at least knock the breath out of her chest and render her useless for a few moments. Racing to my left, I attempt to clear myself of the range of her hooves, uncertain of the real damage done to her back leg, but my own ass starts to sting in the chill air. I curse under my breath, finally realizing the wound on my rump. I shoulder this pain, though, knowing that it is but a flesh wound - nothing to give in over.

Pivoting on swift limbs, I crane back around toward her, my body rustling as the wind catches through the trees, following me in quiet companionship. I begin to rush with it, forward toward the area she stood prior, hoping her injured leg keeps her from straying too far. I lift my upper end when I would come in range, my front legs extended toward the same area my cowkick had been aimed for, the sensitive area of lower ribs on the right side. Furious winds wrap around the area as well, tightening the pressure of the air around her throat and skull, hopefully choking her enough to still any movement. With any luck, this would be dual to the hit of my forehooves to her chest, pushing the air from both ends, over-expanding her lungs or larynx.

I am aware this could kill, but those who would threaten my family deserve death.
You should have chosen your loyalties more carefully; never trust a snake.

[ WC: 767; 2/4; MC: 1/2; Kri is using buffs SWIFT and NUMB. ]

There are moments in life that you remember with perfect clarity. Today is one of those days. The throb of my heart in my ears, the slap of my hooves upon solid, frozen terrain, the whine of wind through my hair, the taste of iron in my mouth, the scent of pine and ice in my nares, and the vision of a certain dark colored mare in the night.
I do not know if it is some trick of the realm of Time locking in this memory so vividly, or just the intensity of my spirit in this day. However, I will never forget my battle with this shadow mare.
Regardless of the outcome, then, perhaps it is her victory to live on in my mind.
I do not like losing.

My legs smack upon her body, but if I make my mark or not is unclear. I do hear the gasp of a breath caught in her chest. I smile with murderous intent. All of my honor, my loyalty, and my strength, it rests upon the edge of a blade thrust by the Basin. If I cannot aid my allies, what use am I to them? If I cannot protect my herd, what good am I as their Commander? At the very least, this girl will understand my rage, my frustration. Stand in my way, and I will crush you. Surely, she understands.

I charge, watching the curve of her neck as she prepares her sword to slice my flesh. So be it. I do not hesitate, I do not falter, I continue my rush forward, the wind's whine growing to a dull roar as it races in front of me, breaking upon the tree trunks like a wave upon the shore.

Her horn skewers my right shoulder, I feel the bristling of pain upon my body. I feel the blood beginning to pull forward, unleashed, as her horn drags up with her body. She raises, though not far enough to be out of my reach, horn dragging up and out of my body, leaving behind a sizable gash drawing the pattern of her lift. I do not stop, nor falter, nor show any hint of the fact that I felt anything. Let her peel her face in agony; the most she will get from me is tacit acceptance of injury. I rise, ignoring the feeling of hooves displaced to the midsection of my barrel, my own forehooves plummeting forward. A feeling of flames on my back, a solid bruise on the muscles over my ribs later. A rocky expression, torn with determination and fire in my eyes, pushes through such distractions. The wind showing all of my ferocity, my anger, my frustration. My hooves hitting their mark. A small breath escaping her lips, my own curving upward in fiendish delight. Then, I feel it.

A pulse, radiating from her body, my hooves curving back down to the earth. I feel it shaking forward, the same barrier which had knocked me cold on the floor. The same, nattering sound of pure energy - spark. I am prepared this time, however, flaring my wings at last minute, possibly hitting her right barrel in the process, allowing myself to be blown backward, only having two hooves planted. I skid, unable to find traction on the permafrost, my wings barely able to keep me from toppling over as a wall of energy shoves me hard toward the left, leaving my body with an odd tingling sensation from head to hoof.

My forehooves land, my back end continues to slide until I am curved back to face toward the right side of Faelene, my eyes glinting with menacing fire. "The same trick will not work twice," I say, my tones gruff like a stallion, the winds racing back to follow me, rustling my mane in gentle reassurance. I quiver, either from the chill of the night or excitement, I am uncertain. "You would do better to get out of my way." Honesty. Did this girl really think she would stop me? Did she really think her loyalty would overcome my hatred in this moment?

Without waiting for her answer, I turn my body and race toward her right hind, hiding the pain of each step, unwilling to give in. I prepare my left shoulder to bulldoze into her flank, saving my injured shoulder the pain. I may be shorter, but I am but a tank of muscle. Years and years of fighting, training, and building upon myself. Whatever natural strength this girl had would simply not overcome my hard work. I would not allow it.
She would get out of my way or give in to me a bloodied mess. Her call.

[ WC: 789; 3/4; MC: 1/2; Kri is using buffs SWIFT and NUMB. ]

The brush of feathers against a silken black coat, I feel it before the violent shove. Halting upon my limbs after the energy dissipates, I look forward with dark eyes, noting the stupid stubborn resolve on her face. She offers what sounds a half-hearted answer, despite staying to be my target for anger, revenge, vehemence. I am the Resolute, so I should understand. I try to place myself back, back before my time at the helm of Helovia. I remember facing the Steadfast in our invasion of the Cliffs. I remember losing. I remember my stupid hope to win. I understand.
Still, now I understand the perspective of one I simply could not before - Adalwulf. How he must have thought me a skull full of feathers in that situation.
I understand, but I still cannot relent.

My breath begins to feel heavy in my chest as I run, the adrenaline or my anger finally beginning to wane. Perhaps understanding the bitch was the last thing I needed. I smile quietly to myself, but I do not slow. I race forward, the pain of my injuries pounding with my hooves, my shoulder diving into her flank, feeling her give way like a sapling. I feel no victory anymore. I feel as though I am fighting the shadow of my former self, with all of my conviction and belief poured into the pegasus of Isilme. How stupid I had been, but had I not been right? My kin were strong, despite the opinion of others at the time. I could not doubt that Faelene and her kin were strong, for was that not why I was pushing so hard to aid my companions?
I was scared of what they might do, but she would never know that. Not if I had a say, anyway.

Because of the little resistance offered from her limbs, I feel no shaking recoil, only the force of the sudden impact on my shoulder before she fell away. My speed is not slowed, not until I see the barb of a horn stretched out before me, wings flaring up and out, knees locking and hind end dropping. I call upon the wind to propel backwards, filling the sails of my feathers with opposing force which slows, but not fast enough. The stab is missed, saving me from a deep painful stick, undoubtedly, but instead my slide continues because of the poor tract of the frosty grounds, upper left shoulder brushing against the blade, a gash tearing forth in the muscle, a matching scar upon both sides. The pain joins that caused by the rattling of my limbs and legs, feeling my force done unto myself. Retribution for Faelene, I suppose.

I snort, surprised by her sudden tactics, though I am uncertain why it caught me off guard. Has she not been trying to stick me like a bug this whole fight? Angrily, my teeth snap after her horn, her face, hoping to grab hold of something before I throw my head down to tear flesh, break keratin, or look ridiculous, depending on my catch. Releasing my possible grasp upon a horn, I then shift my weight fully onto my hind, curving in a smooth pivot toward the right, kicking out with my back legs once my forehooves meet the ground once more. I do not know what the aim would be, likely a her right shoulder or neck.

Those feelings I have tried to ignore for the better part of this battle come to life with sinking clarity. The gash upon my shoulders, the bruises upon my body, the soreness of limbs, and the aching caused by the cold air. I close my eyes and try to scurry away from her side, hoping that when I turn back around she will no longer be standing.
Denial can only carry you so far.

[ WC: 645; 4/4; MC: 1/2; Kri is using buffs SWIFT and NUMB. ]