He speaks words that the mare does not understand, aside from the name Cinnoru. Instantly, the name reminds her of the war waged between the sons of the Gods, the demons which had cast a mighty force upon the land, causing her home to crumble once. She remembers the flying boulder, coming toward the small frame of her body causing her to shift for the first time. The same boulder which separated a scared child from her mother, her father. The very same idiocy which ripped the land, her heart and life apart. This stallion, whoever he may be, claiming to be the heir of such a monster - he aims to wreck her home once more. The vehemence, the rage, the anger that crept unnaturally within her soul deepens, and the soft muzzle normally curled upward in a smile turns into a vile sneer. He would pay for this.

If this monster wishes for her home, let him come and claim it from her lifeless bones. There will be no other way.

Silently, her eyes narrow, hooves honing in on their target when suddenly, movement, retaliation. Onni's eyes see the flexing of the muscles into a rear, and she prepares herself for the impact. He will meet me head on, she thinks as his bellow claws through the air, his massive body raised in protest to her onslaught. What little warning she received will not safe her, but Onni is prepared to move decisively now. I am the daughter of the Resolute. I cannot retreat. I cannot bow. I cannot run. I must prevail.

The breast of the creature slams against her hooves, shaking her entire figure from feather to hoof, but Onni allows for her front end to come to this abrupt stop, hind end sliding forward with the inertia of her body's movement. Back legs curl to avoid slamming hooves against the ground below, wings flare out to catch her, buffering her sudden, raking stop. A cloven hoof slams onto her left shoulder with brutal force, missing her wing by pure chance, battering her slightly toward the right without the resistance of the ground to hold the shaman steady. She lets out a gush of air from her chest upon impact, the pain filling the void that it leaves. Her head is thrown up, back legs pumping outward, seeking the right barrel or underbelly of the stallion to shove herself away from him.

Get out of the way, get out of the way, get out of the way, the mare thinks to herself like mutterings of someone gone insane.

Regardless of the outcome of her push, the longest horn of the beast meets with left side of her pale face, toward the center. The blade slices the skin in a perfectly straight line and breaking off the jaw, blood painting the white canvas crimson. Had the girl been more vain, the healer may have shrieked out in hostility for the brute ruining her perfect appearance. Instead, Onni is just thankful that he did not stab her in the throat. Fluttering her wings with desperate intentions, Onni remembers that she has never been the best at flying and feels a quiver of doubt in the chambers of her heart. Closing both sky eyes, the voice of the Samurai fills her mind. Reassuring, upbeat, proud, and honest. I can do this. She attempts to right herself once more, gain in altitude, anything that can keep her from falling to the ground with the that horned monster.

Luck smiles upon the winged girl, chocolate feathers catching upon the air and holding the painted body aloft. The shaman attempts to stay clear of the range of the monster's horn for a brief moment. A shaking breath is exhaled before the girl dives back toward his already injured spine, farther away from the head (Onni has had quite enough of that horn for one day) and closer toward the lumbar region, approaching from his right side, if he had not turned substantially. This battle must end, it must end quickly, or she could die.

[ WC: 692; 3/4; 1/2; Onni is using buffs SWIFT and BULK. ]