But the night fades away and gives way to the day
The young mare had followed after those of her Sisters who had headed out of the Jungle hot on the heels of the wolf who had come to set it ablaze. She's not quite sure why she did so, she's hardly a warrior, much less one trained for years to be a fearless weapon. Caught up in the moment, Draconis supposes, the shared outrage that their home would be attacked in any fashion. She doesn't have much of a plan once she arrives, either. There's so much going on, a nonstop battle-vista laid out before her innocent eyes. She finds herself wishing she'd stayed back home, where it was (mostly) safer and there wasn't a rampaging dragon overhead, or various animals (shapeshifters? she wonders) on the ground committed to a battle royale against Prague, Joscelin, and their allies/dopplegangers. But she wasn't a filly anymore, she was a sworn Sister, and she was not going to run back home in shame.
Spotting the elder Amazons does give her something to home in on, even if Prague was doing the body switcharoo thing herself, and she hastily makes her way towards them, anxious to help. She did bring her own trick along, the gift she'd been trained in over the years, though with the place already aflame, it might be a bit redundant. The star-blanketed mare shrugs that off, taking in a few deep breaths to prepare herself as she looks around for a target. She catches sight of a large winged stallion, a stranger to her, but passes her gaze on since he definitely seems to be anti-Chamber with how he was conjuring various fauna and flora up to send against its fighters. Joscelin's lightning strikes are as worrisome as they are deadly, and the girl hopes they are far more controlled than those created by nature.
Draconis sees Prague attempting to ensnare another stallion with some vines, and decides to try and help her in this endeavor. The heavy-bodied stallion from a few moments ago is thinking ahead of her on this, striking out at the black male. She waits for his strike to be completed, then moves behind the battling pair, as near to the black stallion as she dares. She exhales as hard as she can manage, unleashing a jet of flame from her muzzle to try and keep him from being able to back away from the vines' reach and hoping she doesn't catch anyone, literally, with the old adage of "friendly fire. " Her heart hammers in her chest as she rushes back towards their little group of allies, her eyes and ears peeled for any other way she can help out in this insane melee, for any instructions the older, more experienced horses might give to her.
Draconis