Blitzkrieg: kayne west! [judges]

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity -- must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions -- not in these her honour dwells.
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.
"Female of the Species" - Rudyard Kipling (1911)

OOC: Blu, I'm really sorry for the wait! And this was a really good fight, Voraer is so adorable with his huffy personality. And judge, thank you for understanding and allowing me to post my defense. And thanks for judging!

Legend’s breath came in haggard gasps, each exhale sending wraiths of steam curling from her bent lips. Voraer’s bellowing challenge was answered with an equally loud snort as she bore down on him like a wild train.

And then, collision.

The sickly, agonizing sound of flesh crashing with flesh – and the shotgun ricochet as both bodies were repelled by the blow.

She gasped, a snarl tearing from her lips as the pain from his counter rendered her whole body temporarily unresponsive. His body had hurt hers; an offense that demanded immediate retribution. But Legend was tactful with her agony; rather than allow her wrath cloud her conscience she manipulated her anger into pure wiliness – let her anger only serve to further encourage her to escape any of his attacks.

She snorted belligerently as he approached behind her, her marish instincts instantly over-riding any sort of common thought. (for as we know, when a stallion comes up behind a mare, the mare’s first instinct is to bolt and kick out.)

And bolt and kick out is exactly what the hell-bent mare did – as Voraer’s right front leg came thrashing out, Legend’s own hind legs retreated underneath her in a savage counter . A squeal of affront tore from her lips as she did so, her ears pinned and tail lashed in a mixture of annoyance and fury as the stallion’s right hoof grazed viciously down the back of her flexor tendon in her left hind. Left in his hoof’s wake was torn flesh and raw blood, which rose and bubbled instantly along her leg.

The pain was instant; unforgiving - - each step a deliberate, agonizing move.

Her previous lofty canter was rendered to a hobbling pathetic three-beat with little suspension and very little cadence. Her breath came in jagged spurts and her sides heaved with their combined efforts. Despite Blitzkrieg’s chilly weather the mare was already slicked with a fine layer of sweat and grime.

Legend grimaced as Voraer approached, her ears laced back and teeth bared in a thoroughly convincing attempt at intimidation.

But despite her best efforts, he came closer – uncomfortably too close - - and Legend did only what was natural and expected for an animal of prey; she succumbed perfectly to equine instinct and shied to the right, away from danger.

Away from harm.

If only it worked that way. . but it didn’t.

Alas, her left hind screamed in protest as she bolted from the imminent blow, and she was significantly hindered by it. her injury allotted her no extra room for mistakes, and unfortunately she was much slower and consequentially unable to evade his ram as much as she would have hoped – the momentum from his blow had been lessened by her shy, but despite her best efforts he still came crashing into her like a trainwreck.

She stifled a hiss of agony, her neck inverted and eyes wild as he collided with her shoulder and shoved her ruthlessly to the side. Her balance was temporarily compromised, and to add insult to injury Voraer’s combo came crashing down upon the back of her left knee, causing Legend to stumble unceremoniously as her left leg was pushed out from under her by the blow.

Blood, dirt and tears; she could taste it all. Bitter, raw, acrid agents in the back of her mouth and mind.

And pain, certainly an unprecedented amount of pain.

Voraer’s hooves, particularly the toe, had connected with the back tarsus and worked its way down, tearing flesh from tendon and leaving Legend’s flexor tendon laid bare to the blustery skies. The wind and dirt stung the raw wound, and Legend was left hobbling more so than before.

But, Legend had an uncompromising creed to uphold; and her head was bloody.. but unbowed. And she knew Voraer, with his fiery temper, was a kindred spirit that had done an admirable job. Proud, wounded and alone, the mare hobbled back to the lands of the Wolves, where her injuries would eventually fade to obscurity and be forgotten.

L E G E N D
o green world, don't desert me now