“There is no soul that this one will bow to,” comes the instant retort, spat impatiently when the brooding male finally finds his voice. He is so small in Skylla’s eyes, and she does nothing to lessen this truth. Perhaps it is unfair of her to judge so harshly, but the silver-gold-brown mare cares nothing for fairness.
“Get away,” she screeches, even as she lunges forwards to meet him, jaws snapping for his throat, gaping and hungry for blood and battle. She is no fool, she knows what it is he wants (he’ll have to fight like hell to get it). With a vicious snarl tearing up her throat, she whirls about, desperate to sink her teeth into his flesh. For his impudence, she will leave him forever scarred, and whatever he takes from her, she’d be damned if she didn’t take something in return.
Were it not for the fact that the storming sea had her half-way to the grave already, this would have been a fight to the death, and there was no doubt in Skylla’s mind that she would have prevailed. (Once, perhaps, she’d been much less unbalanced, but there was no real way of knowing, for all was lost to her, and surely there were none to be found across these islands scattered like a fistful of emeralds in the sapphire sea that could know who the savage siren had been, before.) And there was still potential for death to pay a visit, if, like Skylla herself, the sulking brute (who bore down upon her even as she rose to meet him) proved unable to restrain himself.
When it was over, and Skylla lies wounded and weak at his hooves, she peers up at him with eyes that smoulder like coals (so deep was her loathing towards this stranger), and she weaves for him an ominous oath, singing of malice. “She will seek to kill you for this,” and her amber eyes gleam at the prospect of future violence. Shadows dance in their depths, and it seems as though half of her desires to push the poor unfortunate soul before her even closer to the edge, so that perhaps when she tumbled off the cliff it wouldn’t be alone. “Better start running,” she barks weakly with laughter, and even though she has no strength in this moment to rise and chase him off, she stretches out her neck and goes for his closest knee, her lust not sated in the least.
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