(--)
Myrika is by me!
The world seemed to consist entirely of flailing limbs and unpleasant odors -- blood, fear, and smoke. There was nothing else -- no horses, no Inferni, nothing else but the battle and its last few moments. Myrika was already exhausted, though she'd only just joined the fray, and she was hurting, too, though not so badly that it caused her any hesitation as she closed the distance between herself and Saule once more, aiming a slice at the exposed throat of the woman. Fur as white as snow split and reddened instantly, and the same warm red covered Myrika. The fire in the pale woman's eyes went out at once, and where there had been fierce struggle a moment ago, now there was only limp lifelessness.
The blue-eyed hybrid took a few short steps backward, looking up at Vesper. Her ears were half-mast, but her muzzle and the rest of her was stained red, all the same. There aren't any prisoners in war, she reminded herself, glancing down toward the body of the wolf who had fought for her life -- fought hard for her life.
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