 The blood that seeps from Lilliana’s shoulder is a brighter red even than the chestnut mare. It smells like training days, like the battle with Elio, like the burnt man in the river. It excites her in a primal way she is not even consciously aware of, a constant current of adrenaline, a predator stalking wounded prey. There is naked excitement in her bright sea eyes, and her mouth curls up (revealing more now-crimson teeth) in a grin as the pregnant mare cries out.
And yet…
Celina hesitates just before biting at Lilliana a second time, one hoof half-raised and the wrist of her left wing half-flexed. Lilliana isn’t fighting back. She is doing exactly as Celina wants, yet it does not feel as good as the striped creature had expected. There is no thrill of success, no pride over landing a blow. It was an impressive feat when she could lay hoof or tooth on her father, and Elio was no longer the weak child she’d once sparred with. They gave as good as they got, and the memories of those conflicts cause a glowing sort of heat in her blood. It’s a heat that is absent now, even though the blood that she slowly licks from one canine is just as sweet as she remembers.
Celina begins to frown at the mare she has pinned against the canyon wall. Then she feints, her head darting forward and back again as if to bite at Lilliana’s neck, and the frown grows deeper.
“I need to get to the River”, the chestnut says with a grimace. Celina knows little of childbirth, and does not recognize the signs of its impending arrival in the woman in front of her. Instead, she snarls at the woman who has insulted her and now refuses to engage her in a fight. Lilliana acts no different than the redwoods that Celina’s father had set her at; attacking her is as thrilling as attacking a tree. It might strengthen her bone and deepen muscle memory, but it is also not fun. Not as fun as a real fight, anyway. Elio hadn’t wanted to fight at first either, Celina remembers. He’d needed to be prodded into it, taunted until he finally struck back. But what does she know of Lilliana’s weaknesses, the points best to apply pressure?
“It’s not as fun when you won’t fight back.”She tells the blue-eyed mare. Her tone is disappointed, and her vicious face is perturbed as she stares at Lilliana. Why does she just cower? Celina briefly wonders if it might be the babe within her belly, but surely pregnancy does not quash one’s desire for a good skirmish. Someone would have told her, if that were true. Celina is equally sure that Lilliana can’t possibly think that she would hurt the child. She’d gone for the shoulder on purpose, after all, and her well-honed skills are more than accurate enough to limit damage to the front half of the chestnut’s body once Lilliana finally lets the fight begin.
If she ever does.
@[lilliana]
celina
i'm that bad type, make-your-mama-sad type
make-your-girlfriend-mad type, might-seduce-your-dad type
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