The shadow-mare had not expected her arrival to go unnoticed, but she felt a fiery twinge of irritation all the same as her Doctor announced their presence to the world. Of course, she was hardly surprised, as d'Artagnan's loyalties had always been with Mauja rather than his relatively new Lady; still, she had rather hoped to arrive without trumpeting their unwelcome appearance. It was too late now, however, for it would be of little use to return to his side and reprimand him, and so with a resigned sigh, the jackal shifted her attention once more to the darkened sky.

She had fought skyrats several times before, but only one had been a true contender, and that had been Kri. It had been before the endless night began, in broad daylight, and thus it had been easier to spot her foe. This darkness, though helpful in concealing their movements, made her uneasy, for she knew that any ebony-hued combatants could approach just as swiftly and silently as they. As so she scanned the skies, imagining a flicker of movement here and there, paranoia lending a hand in her mind's rampant wanderings. She continued ever forward at a steady trot, auds swiveling to and fro, searching for any sign of movement.

Was that a whoosh of wind she heard? Instinct instructed her to lunge to the right, though she had not seen the enemy; a single hoof traced a line along her ribcage, drawing blood in the form of a relatively shallow cut. She cursed silently, for the warning provided by the sound of the skyrat's dive had not been quite enough to allow her to completely dodge the blow. Wings flared above and around the dark queen, precariously placed to halt the feather-brain's downward momentum; the jackal shoved herself forward, kicking up as she did so, aiming her kick at the skyrat's fragile, extended appendage. The injury that she had received was shallow and unlikely to affect her battle strategy, but if she could break or badly bruise this idiot's wing, the other mare would be unable to flee. She twisted her head to the side as she kicked in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her attacker; as she had feared, the combatant was pitch black, blending almost perfectly with the night and placing the Empress at a distinct disadvantage. The Lady of the Basin and soon-to-be ruler of Helovia pressed on all the same, undeterred by her stroke of bad luck.

A wild, predatory grin flashed onto the shade's face, quickly morphing into a rather terrifying grimace as the her back legs met the ground once more; a step forward was taken, and then she whirled around in a half-rear. She pushed forward (though not as forcefully as she would have liked, what with the sandy, crumbling footing that she found herself on) and tucked her cranium to her breast, aiming her horn directly at the skyrat's heart. She hoped to catch the inferior off balance and drive her weapon down into the soft tissue of the mare's chest for the kill. As much as she would have loved to torment the ugly thing, she had a war to win, and that would not be done in one battle. Impatience drove her now, and a will to find a more worthy opponent (not, she had to admit, that one was to be found in this tainted land). If she could pull off a quick, clean kill, her regime would begin that much more quickly.

[Invasion Type: Traditional, SWP Applies
Time frame to start an invasion or defense post is from now until August 22.

Setting: Dragon's Throat borders, traveling toward center; midnight, cloudy.
Buffs: Endure

587 Words
1/4 Attacks
0/2 Magic + 0/1 Extra Magic Use (Herd Champions)

Psyche awaits a defender.]

"Talk talk talk."