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Thorns: Five minutes past Eleven

by Apocolythe

Apocolythe Part 2
Woohoo. First time writing fighting scenes. Mentioned death in this part, and mentioned-and-fictionally-seen blood as well. AAANGST. I USE TOO MANY DESCRIBING WORDSSSSS.

I wrote too much didn't i
Pulling back from a dagger aimed at her ribcage, Kamui proceeded to plunge her sword into her attacker, her body being flooded with the feeling of triumph.
Swiftly reeling to the side, she pressed her back to Takumi, all while scanning the skies for feathers; a telltale sign her husband had returned to their shared residence. Dread pooling in her crimson orbs, Kamui continued.
Not without someone noticing, however. She felt a nudge to her shoulder, and grunted in acknowledgement.
"Kamui? Where's Tsubaki gone to? Shouldn't he be somewhere in the sky right now?" Hinata breathed as he cut down an opposing swordsmaster.
He should have been here hours ago, Kamui thought, He only went to go help Sakura, yet here she is right now...
Millions of questions clouded her mind, trying to piece together the situation, and her stomach twisted and
turned, as though being tortured by the intense thoughts she was pursuing. She was only pulled out of her
speculations when she felt the burning pain of an arrow digging into her leg. Glancing down, she noticed it was barbed. Possibly poisoned too. A short squeak passing her lips, she collapsed, her eyes struggling to stay open.

She swore she heard someone call her name.
It was then she heard the pounding of wings -a bit too close for comfort, ally or not- , and felt the gentle texture of a feather on her face, paired with a drop of moisture from a tree.
Rose eyes fluttering, the Nohrian princess studied her surroundings. For one, she was leaning against something hard, which she assumed to be bark.
A streak of white shot through the sky, and Kamui could have sworn she saw a splash of crimson in the heavens. Reaching for her dragonstone, the wyverness let out a sharp gasp as the arrow in her leg shifted.
Instead settling for carefully hoisting herself up against her sword, her eyes scanned the area.
She wished she hadn't looked. She wished she had been more alert. She wished she could turn back time. But that was a foolish wish.
A Pegasus was buried in the various trees, blood staining its saddle.
And she recognized that saddle. It was the one she aided in adjusting to the right place every sunrise.
She then ran a finger across her cheek, wiping where the thick water from the leaves began running down her face. Glancing at her hand, her eyes widened and her lips quivered.
The calloused digit drew back, with scarlet staining its milky complexion.