Salt water is good for infections, she hissed idly to herself to deal with the stinging pain that dug deep into the root of her muscles like a syringe containing nothing but raw heat and shards of titanium. "Small but mighty" had never been used in such a strange manner, and yet been so fitting. The water slows her movement, tempts her to draw her knees up and out instead of their normal outward gait, if only to overcome the drag the water has on her. Were this a real battle, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat, life and death. It angers her that Tingal does not gaze at her seriously, for how will that ever teach her how to defend herself? How will that help her out there in the world, the one she knows is harsh? It is useless to spar without trying, for there would always be someone else out there, an enemy, who trained day after day, gaining multitudes of scars, who would crush those inexperienced imitators of warriors.

Deep in her thoughts, she is wrenched away, and pain is upon her nape. Ironically she can't help but think, bitterly, that Tingal might have a bit too much tiger in him. After all, she is no child, no kit, to be grabbed by the scruff and hauled around submissively. No, Hotaru had had enough of being submissive. It was time, now, to grow into her skin. Her worth.

Yanking away from sharper-than-normal herbivorous teeth, her blood goes with it, and she snarls like a crazed demon as their dance continues. As she lunges to pierce his flesh, he simultaneously launches his forehalf into the sky, dull hooves barely brushing her hipbone, a solid graze that would likely bruise a little. It is worth it, to pierce the fluff of his protective fur, to know she has dealt him a blow to remember. Despite her love for him, it does not mean she knows how to express it. All her life she had been fighting night and day, tooth and nail, for affection, attention. For the right to hold her family's attention, to know she was just as perfect as they portrayed themselves to be. Fighting for the right to be respected. And tonight, that is what she does, she fights for Tingal to respect her. No longer can she be considered a child, the frail and helpless thing she had been when they first met.

Together they break away, he from her horn and she from his flailing limbs, knowing better than to remain prone and hurting at the side of a massive creature such as he. As she lunges for the shore, birdlike chest fluttering anxiously for breath after working her muscles in the cold substance, he knocks into her ever harder, sending her foreleg into a skid away from her body as it tries to move with the force she exerts as well as the one he places upon her. Relying on any leg is painful, with his little nips and cuts, and she wishes instead that he had put strength behind each blow. These are more annoying than debilitating.

At separate times they touch shore, and she lifts windswept, salted forelock to gaze at him with a blazing look that is hot and fierce in her silver and sea-foam eyes. Bloodied horn rises high into the sky, dripping hot in small streaks down the side of her muzzle, warm with life. She may not be victorious, it is debatable, but she has not fallen. For her, it as a triumph. "It is over." That is all she has to say, in order to confirm to Tingal that it is indeed done.


Defense: 1/1
Word Count: 621