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. ]