08-21-2019, 11:41 PM
The weather could not be more ideal, he notes as he watches the clouds lazily roll across an overcast sky without the threat of rain. The autumn day is a comfortable temperature that even offers up a nice breeze from time to time, pushing his gold and black forelock from his handsome face. A golden ear swivels when he hears her thoughts, loud and evidently repulsed by his charisma, and he feels a smile pull at his lips. Malone turns his head and spots her among the short, dry grasses with her tail swishing excitedly. He turns his body to face her, sun at his back, and he’s careful to paw the ground as he does so to test his grip on it. It’s rained enough that the ground isn’t slick dust for him to slip and fall on but it isn’t so damp that his hooves sink into it either. He gives himself a short nod of approval as adrenaline begins to pulse through his veins.
He tucks his wings tight to his sides and lowers his head over his neck when she begins her charge. The moment she leaves her poor hiding place, Malone turns his body left in a tight circle so his hind end is now facing her, allowing him to kick out with his powerful hind legs. She seemed close enough that he had timed it right, maybe a few feet at best, but his inexperience makes him uncertain. Maybe his hooves collide with her face and further blind her or even knock her out cold, or perhaps they find stomach or rib and limit her mobility? There isn’t much time for him to concern himself with how his own attack fares against her when he feels young lion claws sink into his lower leg, though.
The pain is immediate and merciless but he bites his tongue to keep from crying out. His left hindleg has taken the brunt of the damage while the right is mostly torn flesh. This isn’t as bad as getting caught in the thorn maze in Loess but he’s not eager to put his weight back on his left leg, either. He grits his teeth once his back hooves meet the ground again, just in time for Felicitey to land her second attack on his hips where her claws grip into him. Malone keeps his wings tucked to his sides as he rears up, throwing himself backward to crush her beneath his weight. His hindlegs protest the movement and he’s punished by a new wave of burning muscles. Would her feline bones snap beneath the weight of a yearling? Would her little capuchin live to give her direction still?
He rolls left, onto his stomach where he stumbles up. Placing weight onto his left leg sends pain all the way into his hips but he forces himself to take a few hurried steps until there is roughly fifteen feet between them. Malone is careful to take ginger, bouncing steps so that he doesn’t put too much pressure on his more wounded appendage. With his back end damaged, he knows he isn’t moving too quickly, and so he turns his body left, facing her once more and protecting his hind end from further assault. His wings are tender from being smushed beneath him but he’s pleased that they don’t ache with any broken bones when they extend over him. He’s not too thrilled with the feeling of his own blood smeared across his hips and legs, however, staining the stars and gold of him red.
Still, he forces a smile onto his face and a defiant laugh comes bubbling up from his throat. His heart thumps against his ribs as he realizes just how hard he's breathing now. Malone thinks he might like this brawling kind of thing. Starsin will be so thrilled.
He tucks his wings tight to his sides and lowers his head over his neck when she begins her charge. The moment she leaves her poor hiding place, Malone turns his body left in a tight circle so his hind end is now facing her, allowing him to kick out with his powerful hind legs. She seemed close enough that he had timed it right, maybe a few feet at best, but his inexperience makes him uncertain. Maybe his hooves collide with her face and further blind her or even knock her out cold, or perhaps they find stomach or rib and limit her mobility? There isn’t much time for him to concern himself with how his own attack fares against her when he feels young lion claws sink into his lower leg, though.
The pain is immediate and merciless but he bites his tongue to keep from crying out. His left hindleg has taken the brunt of the damage while the right is mostly torn flesh. This isn’t as bad as getting caught in the thorn maze in Loess but he’s not eager to put his weight back on his left leg, either. He grits his teeth once his back hooves meet the ground again, just in time for Felicitey to land her second attack on his hips where her claws grip into him. Malone keeps his wings tucked to his sides as he rears up, throwing himself backward to crush her beneath his weight. His hindlegs protest the movement and he’s punished by a new wave of burning muscles. Would her feline bones snap beneath the weight of a yearling? Would her little capuchin live to give her direction still?
He rolls left, onto his stomach where he stumbles up. Placing weight onto his left leg sends pain all the way into his hips but he forces himself to take a few hurried steps until there is roughly fifteen feet between them. Malone is careful to take ginger, bouncing steps so that he doesn’t put too much pressure on his more wounded appendage. With his back end damaged, he knows he isn’t moving too quickly, and so he turns his body left, facing her once more and protecting his hind end from further assault. His wings are tender from being smushed beneath him but he’s pleased that they don’t ache with any broken bones when they extend over him. He’s not too thrilled with the feeling of his own blood smeared across his hips and legs, however, staining the stars and gold of him red.
Still, he forces a smile onto his face and a defiant laugh comes bubbling up from his throat. His heart thumps against his ribs as he realizes just how hard he's breathing now. Malone thinks he might like this brawling kind of thing. Starsin will be so thrilled.