[Past].

Quince and Danica battled in the air, wings moving to and fro with loud, violent vigour. The air was lingering with a cool humidity, the wind lapping at their faces and combing through their hair like a spray of water from the ocean. Danica sent a punch at Quince's face, skimming her cheek, and she became delirious through the swift, high motion and the force of her body. Down the two went as they fought, fist to fist, wing to wing, stomachs twirling about in a nauseating dance.

The speed at which they fell was like lightning. Quince's wings were violently moving, trying their very best to pull her up, her chest and arms terribly sore and shaking; but they just couldn't quite make it with Danica's weight pouring down on top of her, and the two flipped around as the world whizzed past them in fury. Then, it was Danica's wings which were so desperately trying to act as a parachute and keep her from colliding with the tall pines below, but Quince held her down. They tugged on one another's clothes, throwing punches that never landed their target for the swinging, moving chaos of the moment. Down they went, heart in their chests and their stomachs dropped below with the sudden fall.

The two writhing women crashed with pressure into a pine's limbs, and the limbs cracked and splintered beneath them, allowing them a hitting pause and then continuing to spiral to the shaded forest floor. The branches hit Quince's back, and her breath was taken from her, gasping with pain for air. One of her wings smacked another, and a bruise formed beneath its feathers, and Quince cried out in breathless agony. Danica was fairing no better, twigs scratching both of her cheeks, and an upturned branch actually catching one of her transparent wings, impaling it and hoisting her into a still suspension with a sudden stop, knocking the wind from her with a frightened and pained gasp.

Then Quince continued to tumble beneath her, leaving Danica stranded, hung to her certain death by one wing in the treetops above. Quince fell below those very trees, those very tall pines, smacking twigs and piercing needles and thudding branches, many cracking and splintering and falling alongside her with the speed and weight. Then, her wings curled up, protecting her head and spine, and she landed against the moss of the forest floor with a loud thud, twigs bouncing up in her wake. Then, it all settled: the noise, the speed, the cold whipping air, the cuts and bruises and pain and wind. It all stopped, as if frozen in time, and everything was beyond utterly silent.

Quince could not breathe for a long moment, but soon her lungs expanded and she was able to sigh a struggling inhale. Her back was aching with swelled agony, a throbbing pain shooting up her spine like poison. Her wings were an entirely new story; bruised every which way, black feathers fallen from their skin and scattered about, several stranded in the trees or wind far above. She could hardly unfurl her wings, and she wasn't quite sure that she even wanted to. Instead, she sat there in that bitter, pulsating silence, listening to the rush of blood in her ears and the intense pounding of her heartbeat, which slowly normalised. Quince did not move for fear of the sore pain, which seemed to be at its least whenever she was absolutely still, laying down on that mossy bed, the sun dappling across her black skin and feathers. The air that filled her lungs was cold and sweet.

Overhead, there was Danica, an angered and pained expression wrecked across her face, eyes flaring in dark anger as she swung there from that upturned pine branch. She kicked her legs and wavered her arms, pulling on another branch and allowing her wing to slip of the impaled one; but Quince watched in confused and frustrated awe, her sight a bit blurred, as Danica's shimmery, translucent wings melted before her eyes. In no other words could it be described; as liquid or goop, they melted from her form and then faded into nothing wisps, and Danica was free. Though, most unexpectedly, her agony clearly was not, that same look of intense horror mounted upon her, her eyes angered, her eyebrows close together, and her mouth downturned in a nasty scowl. Her silver hair was frizzy around her horns, her clothes stained and ripped in a few locations. A few bruises and cuts welted across her skin, as did Quince's with a persistent stinging, and Danica's pale face turned red. Though, it quickly turned pale once again as she realised just how far she was from the ground.

Quince would waste no time; as Danica struggled far overhead, branches clacking against one another, she sat up, giving a poor cry to a sudden sharp pain in her ribs. She went to clench the area with fists, holding tightly around her abdomen with her arms, her wings curled around her and fluttering with the tension of it. At long last, the pain subsided, though her ribs still felt tender; bruised, perhaps. Then, Quince quickly got to her two feet. Having fallen in a swirling ruckus, she had no sense of direction, and no reference for where to go to reunite with her friend and brother. On one side of her, the forest's expanse loomed darkly; on the other side, it did the same. From where she was, she could not even hear the calls from Adolpha and Ajax, the trees' pines and moss muting the far-away sound. If she could have heard them, then she would have been aware of their plan to rescue her. Adolpha ran, frantic, from edge of the forest, alongside Ajax, who's round muzzle was lifted in a furious scowl, tail rolling behind him in a wave. The two ran in a quick, panicked sprint, feet pounding against the ground, adrenaline pushing them ahead in a rush and roar.

Through breathless heaves, Ajax yelled, "You take that way, and I'll take left! We'll be quicker to find her if we split up!"

"Right!" And so the two split up, off to find Quince, legs moving swiftly.

Despite this, Quince knew fair and well that she could not stay where she was, in regards to the threat looming just above her head, and those crackling branches. Several green pine needles and a few pinecones fell from overhead, scattering across the floor around her. She made a quick decision, picking a random direction, happening to be to her left, and began to race. As if preparing to burst, her heart thumped in her chest; her head spun, blood roaring in her eyes, a hot energy flowing through her pumping limbs, and the wind against her face. She darted past large pines and a few scattered oaks, zig-zagging slightly as she ran.

A frustrated Danica was left behind, tangled in high, clacking branches. But she was clever, and quick, too. The Lycanthrope's form lowered and changed until Danica was a large grey agouti wolf, keeping her rich black eyes and becoming of scruffy, silver-lined hair, her fancy clothes tearing as her muscles shifted. With four legs, she used claws like talons to grip the bark of her tangled branches, hanging from them. Then, she jumped, tackling the rounded bark of the pine's massive trunk; her paws, widespread, scrabbled; but she was no Feline with claws and legs built for climbing, and her wolf slipped, faltered, and fell the distance to the forest floor. There, she landed on her side in a scattered bed of pines with a mighty thump, hearing the sound of her ribcage cracking before actually feeling the immeasurable agony. Then, she did feel it, and it erupted throughout her body like a blazing fire, causing her to sweat and cry, her muscles stiff with straight tension in every leg.

Danica had to admit; her endeavour was not her brightest moment, though, she still kept a plan secure. The grey wolf slowly lifted her large head, grimacing, laying with her paws out in front of her. A strong, throbbing pain coursed through her, pumping from the side of her ribcage, which rose and fell in great heaves as her lungs struggled to expand and fall. Her breathing was wavering and crackling, thick with the noise of injury. And yet, despite the pounding agony, her heart rich with its violence beneath her chest's fur, she did not fear nor hesitate. Danica, being one of the rare individuals born with a rare gift, given to her by a desperate and dying Mother Nature, had the ability to heal both herself and others in mere seconds, which is exactly what she did then, laying there in silent fury on the moss.

Her magical capabilities were not a thing that was tricky nor even draining to use; while it did require some amount of developed skill, practice, experience, and a baseline of knowledge for healing practices, her magic came to her as easily as did hunting, fighting, talking, and walking— all learned talents. Whenever she was little, she had struggled a decent amount with honing her ability, but now, more than 30 years later, it came to her like instinct.

The blessing was very much a physical entity, and one that was hot to the touch. With a bit of illumination, the stream of it flowed like smoke from her muzzle to her ribs, where she could command it to do the only thing it knew how to do: heal. The blessed magic given to her by Mother Nature was much different in both appearance, capability, and use than the magic granted to her by Nautis. Mother Nature's magic was light and airy, flowing like glowing smoke or perhaps sailing mist, and using it could grant one a momentary unpleasant feeling of grounding or heavy weight, or even a lifting of the stomach as if they were falling from a great height, as was Mother Nature's method of preventing over-use or addiction to her magic. Nautis' methods were much different; his magic, with light and glitter and wisp, was just as beautiful, if not more so than Mother Nature's. But Nautis' magic left darkness in its wake, casting shadows that could never be removed and blackening the grass beneath it, granting its users blackened eyes and blood. Using Nautis' magic would grant the user a momentary feeling of bliss or euphoria, or even ecstasy, making it addictive and dangerous to use. In severe cases, over-using the evil gift could kill the user.

Danica was tenderly careful with her use of magic; although she was enticed by its great power, she knew that succumbing to it would be her downfall, and thus, she opted for a discretionary use of it. Most were not like-minded to her, and especially not Virulent.

Although a stinging process, her broken ribs were swiftly and silently mended beneath her skin through the use of her alluring healing. The pain, like a scar, remained although dimmed in severity, leaving itself as a reminding pulse along her side. Danica winced as she got to her paws, but pushed ahead regardless and with great speed. At once, she took to racing across the moss, upturning wet dirt behind her as her claws dug into it, her shaggy fur bouncing with every great leap and her tail rolling behind her, mimicking her body's bounding movement. Through scent and sight and experience, she knew which direction Quince had ran, and took after her swiftly. The wind rolled through her coat like the cool sky on waving grass.

Panting, she ran, and soon she could see Quince ahead, racing almighty just as Danica did, albeit with a limp. But Quince was a winged Lycanthrope at the time and no wolf; she could not match Danica's incredible speed upon four legs with her just two, and not that Quince had even considered to. The thought of shifting as injured as she had become had not even crossed her mind. For Quince, these battles were a complete first-time experience, and her instincts were not honed to protect her as well as Danica's were. Her haste was slowed, her confidence yet to be completely built, but Danica's was high and mighty, her speed and knowledge pushing her along with a confident edge that Quince did not yet have. Rhythmic thumping paws grew nearer and louder, muffled to erratic pounds by the soft dirt beneath them, flicking mud upwards and behind them in little earthy pebbles. Danica could feel the earth fill the lines between her padded toes, crusting beneath her black dagger-like claws. Her feet were heavy and large, just as a wolf's should be.

It did not take long for the huge, four-legged beast to catch up to Quince's running form, boots hitting the ground and metal armour clinking and clinking and clinking. Furry face pulled back in a sneer, ears pinned flat against her head, and black eyes narrowed, the silver wolf leapt from strong, angled hocks and upwards and forwards at a mighty, precise speed. Then, her body and limbs were stretched and long before recoiling once again, like a flexing and waning accordion. First, her hind legs bended and lifted, and then her spine curled gently. Her front and back paws hit Quince's shoulders and placed in her love handles at the same time, and with the force of a 100lbs, Quince flew forward chest-first, hitting the ground with a tremendous pain and shout, her wings splayed out flat on either side of her. Her ribs nearly popped audibly with the agony, their tenderness blooming into a fiery pain once again. Her fingers dug at the dirt, tearing moss and pines, desperate to crawl away. The fear pumped a numbing adrenaline throughout her, her breathing too quick to recognise, and her head spinning as if she'd had a bit too much to drink. Her stomach nearly felt the same, although her sore limbs felt more like the day after.

Quince wailed, voice breaking, "Get off of me, you dog!" Her words were aching, strained, and brittle. Her legs and arms thrashed, and her wings struggled to flutter beneath the immense weight. They pushed against the ground, scattering dirt and yellowed pine needles, slick black feathers flying.

"No," Danica snarled, "You're coming with me." Quince shoved her hands and arms against the floor, very needle and pebble like a bee sting against her skin, but the wolf upon her held her down with heavy weight, putting sharp pressure along her spine and digging claws into her gleaming black feathers, which ruffled. At Quince's desperate and pained struggle, Danica chuckled, a deep, wicked cackle, "Oh, don't worry. I'm not to kill you. I have other orders."

Quince froze, heart beating and nothing else, "Orders from Virulent? What orders?"

"Your magic would be no good to us if you were dead," Danica said. "I'm only here to apprehend you."

"Well, you've done that, quite," Quince hissed, breathless.

"So," Danica replied, smug and much too proud. She raised her head back, lifted her nose, and let out a mighty, powerful howl. A simple, triumphant signal that would allow anyone in the area to know that Quince had been captured, and was needed removed. As her song echoed, her ear flicked, swiveling from its wide base one direction, and then the next. Her howl quieted, and Danica lowered her head, eyes darting from one side to the next. She had heard something, as had Quince. From behind where they lay on the ground, a quick crackling of branches, the thudding of feet on forest floor; the rustle of underbrush, and appeared a Feline, round ears forward and slitted eyes wide in search and alert. Quince craned her head backwards to see, catching a glimpse of Ajax, and felt suddenly hopeful.

Danica was rather disturbed, frustrated with her growing list of tasks, but pleased and aware that it had been her howl which had brought Ajax to her. He, too, was on her given list for capture. She watched with perky interest as he crept from the shrubs and into the open, chest forward and chin high, his fangs glinting beneath the pooling sun's light. Quince could see the rise and fall of his chest, the angry twirling of his tail, the light turning the edges of his tan fur white.

It felt quite ironic, then, for a wolf to be facing a Feline in battle. Danica leapt from where Quince laid, agile and curved as a fox, light on her feet towards Ajax. At once, Quince pushed herself up and began to run; only, she did not begin to run, and in fact remained entirely still, laying face-down in the dirt, struggling. Somehow, even with the weight of the large wolf no longer holding her down, her hips and torso seemed locked in place, content to stay right where they were, and her loudly thrashing legs and arms did not help. Of course Danica had used a bit of Nautis' magic on her, binding her to the ground, to Quince's frustration and dismay. Like a paperweight, she could not lift herself up, and would remain stuck to the ground until Danica passed out or chose to release her. Quince panicked, then, feeling helpless and hopeless, as if she had sleep paralysis, and Danica was her very own demon.

Quince could only watch, head turned awkwardly in the dirt beside her, as Danica's wolf neared Ajax like predator to prey. The strong Feline unsheathed his glinting sword as well as his daggery claws, using them to grip its handle, pointing the end of the blade down at Danica's muzzle with unwavering paws. She held a foxy smirk along her furred face, dark, almond eyes gleaming.

"Release my sister," Ajax demanded, his voice loud and unafraid. The puffs of his orange Feline cheeks were raised, wrinkling the bridge of his triangular little nose, and baring his sharp teeth.

"Or else what?" Danica growled, head cocked. She took another pawstep closer to him, ear flicking, and he took his own pawstep back. Quince could see Ajax's sword waver ever so slightly, his grip on the leather of it much too tight. He was afraid. Subtly, but the fear was there, and only Quince could see with experienced eyes that he was drenched in it. His feet too stiff on the floor, his tail swishing much too much, fidgeting.

"Or I'll cut you apart," he threatened, growling right back, eyes slanted.

Danica gleamed, "Well, then, I suppose you'll have to do just that." Her tail almost wagged.

The Feline scowled, rearing back and then swinging the sword with full force at the wolf. The metal flashed white as it whipped through the air in a blur, and came crashing down with a weebling thud into dirt as it missed its moving mark. Danica was clever, and skilled, too. She easily dodged such a reckless and uncoordinated attack. Hitting the ground with his blade at full force, the force reverberated up towards him, and Ajax stumbled backwards, pulling his up blade from the soil. Loose dirt scattered. He looked confused, or perhaps in a mild amount of pain, his forehead creased and muzzle uplifted in a frustrated scowl, teeth glinting.

Danica attacked, sensing weakness as he was confused. He did not even hold his sword up; rather, the hilt of it rested loosely in one paw, and the blade end touched the forest's floor. Danica reared back, curling her spine, and then leapt forward with strength from her angled rear legs, wind cycling through her silver fur, hackles raised and hair on end. She leapt with no sound aside from the rustling of moss beneath her heavy paws, but her maw was wide open, fangs flashing like small knives, ready to pierce and rip. Pierce they did, as she aimed and threw herself well and valiantly, and her entire body landed upon his. Even as a wolf, she was nearly his size, being huge and furry as she was, strong muscles rippling beneath a dense grey pelt. Her powerful, long jaws met the tan fur and flesh of his upper shoulder, where they crunched down hard and did not let go, the metallic taste of fowl blood filling her mouth and coating her tongue. Her canines pierced first, and then her molars pushed down hard through squelching skin. Her jaws ached with the strength of impact, but she held on tight.

Ajax reacted quickly and negatively, with a stumbling backwards at the full force of a wolf upon him. He cried out in pain, battered with his hand at the thick fur of the beast, took several steps backwards and then collapsed to the floor on his tail with a thud. The pain seared through him like a windy fire, spreading in agony, and he yowled and yowled and yowled, eyes slitted and teeth showing and muzzle curled upwards in an angry and pained snarl. His fur stood on end over his broad shoulders, giving him a gently puffy look through his neck and scruff. The sword fell from his shocked grip and tossed across the grassy ground with a scattering, rustling sound. His hands gave way, nearly numb or perhaps tingling with pins and needles from the suddenness of it all.

The moss of the forest floor met his hands and swishing tail, struggling to remain sitting upright with poor balance, shaken by a fury of pain. It pounded through him and in his ears, his eyes wide, rocking back and forth just a little with the thumps of his running heart. The wolf shook with the mighty power of her large muscles, gripping his shoulder tight in her jaws and then tugging this way and that furiously like a dog playing tug of war. His shoulder pulled forward with her force and with a mighty crack as it dislocated, and he called out again in agony, gripping at her pelt and attempting to force her off of him. The metal there was dented. The front of his clothes and armour was slick with trickling scarlet. It gleamed nearly orange in the morning's dappled light.

With claws unsheathed, Ajax grappled the scruff of the wolf and dug sharp nails into her fur and skin, piercing. The wolf growled in response, furious, and still refusing to let go of her mighty grip. It pounded, ached, and seared.

She nearly cackled, "You're not getting away from me, now, Cat!"

He found it all less amusing, but could not help a slight smirk, "I'm not going down that easy, Dog!" He lifted her body from the ground with strong biceps, to her surprise, and then threw her as hard as he possibly good. Her teeth ripped from his shoulder, slitting his wound in two lines, and he yowled again with the fire and agony. The wolf flew, tumbled, and rolled across the ground in a painful thud, yelp, and groan. She landed finally at rest upon her heaving side, mouth bloodied and ribs sore, laying in the moss with her tongue out. The whites of her eyes were brilliantly so and exposed, her ears back tight against her head.

Ajax stood up shakily, getting a rough balance on his two large paws, tail wavering to help. He kept a hand firm on the blood spill from his shoulder, and let the other hand exhaustedly at his side as he slowly walked towards Danica, laying in the grass, breathing heavy. The energy and pain and exhaustion coursed through them both at once.

Danica fought it, but with the stain of her pelt and body, the ache and the burning sensation of injury, her eyes fluttered and rolled, and she became unconscious. Immediately, Quince could feel her limbs become freed, as if the rope they'd been bound with had just been cut; and she jumped to her feet with haste, running towards her Feline brother to coddle and comfort him and attempt to mend his wounds, although she knew very well that she could not. Regardless, she held hands to his spewing blood and kept her eyes wide with the horror, her heart pounding so loudly and so heavily in the depths of her ribcage, her stomach boiling over and tempting her to vomit. She did not, but she remained shaking and hollow with the shock, fear, and worry. And then there was also her pain, the sharp tension in her ribcage that she could feel melt this way and that way as she walked and moved, piercing her innards and giving her a terrible pain. With a hand on her side and a hand on her brother, she walked close to him and towards Danica.

"We have to finish this," Ajax hissed, his voice rumbling and strained, every word spilling out in fast, uneven breaths. "We have to kill her."

"I know," Quince said. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, lower lip quivering. She had never taken a life before, and neither had Ajax. What a terrible thing it seemed to be, and the horrors of which awaited them already plagued them both. A heaviness rested on their shoulders like the weight of the world itself— and in many ways, the weight of the world was upon their shoulders alone. And Danica was but a small part of it, of this mighty plan that Mother Nature had bestowed upon them. She was one part of the puzzle that needed eradicated, working for the enemy. Thinking twice, Quince hesitated, "But what of Adolpha?"

But then it was Danica's howl of triumph from earlier that lured in the enemy, and before anything else could be done, the enemy arrived. Servants of Virulent, and thus, servants of Nautis; four or five lizards sauntering into the battlefield of the tall, old growth pine forest, snickering and scaled tails wavering. Some of them were green, brown, grey, or a mixture of the colours with a hint of gold along the ribbing of their ears and short snouts.

Quince and Ajax turned with fearful expressions to the party of slick and wiry, earthy Saurions. Ajax hissed and instinctively took a protective step in front of Quince, tail swishing, ignoring the pain of his leaking shoulder. She did not take her hand from him, careful to not let him go and become injured for a second time.

A grey Saurion stepped forward with scraggly hair and a toothy smirk, hissing, "You two will be coming with us to Virulent's Forest."

"Are we not there already?" Ajax asked.

"Don't play with us, Feline," the creature scowled, nearing closer, fangs and claws glinting, scales shimmering. "You're ours."

Ajax shifted, preparing to fight, but knowing that Quince and he were much too injured to put up much of one. Running was not an option.