Armel opened the door to the holding area. The light cast shadows across a female unicorn, behind bars, with an iron bar across her lap, staring ferociously at the door. Her breathing was labored, arduous. Her skin blossomed black and purple and yellow on her left arm, hanging loosely at her side.

He approached, nostrils flared and ears jingling and stopped right in front of the door of the cage. He watched her size him up.

“I am Hornclaw of the Ragebrood.” She pushed herself on her feet, bar hanging loosely in her right hand.

“I am Heartless of the Bloodfury.” She walked up to the edge of the cage, staring up at him.

“Is the lizard too cowardly to face me?” she sneered, “You look worthy of my fight.”

“And you, I,” Armel responded.

“Show me Seren,” she demanded. He opened up the cage. She made no movement.

“No,” he responded. She swung her weapon at his head. He ducked and swung at her legs. She was hit, but she stood her ground, grunting against the weight of his push. She stabbed him with her bar, and blood spilled out from his shoulder. He pushed her away, and she kicked out at him. Back and forth, he dodged her blows and grabbed at her tail.

In a swift motion, she tackled him to the ground and slammed the bar against his head. He pushed her off, but she hit him again in the head, and his arms went limp.

Heartless hit him again and again until his head stayed rolled to one side. Her head jerked up towards the entrance of the room, and she ran towards the door, spitting blood.

She eyed the door, touching the edges with her right hand. The doors had no hinges, no latch, and no knob. There was no clear break between the doors, and the walls with any kind of wide gap. The windows were too small and too dark. She pushed, and the doors did not budge. She grunted and pushed harder. Then she hit the door with the bar.

Again, she hit the door, wincing and panting. No movement.

She hit the door. Again. Again. Again.

“You know…you’re not going to get those doors open like that.” She fell to her knees, sweat dripping off her face into a wet puddle of salty blood pooling near her feet.

Armel’s head lay facing her back. He twitched his fingers and spit up bile and blood. Groaning, he lifted his hands to his head.

“Grah. You did a number on my head…” he murmured, squeezing his eyes tightly. Heartless shifted to sitting, letting the metal bar slip from her hand and roll towards the right side of the room. Her breathing slowly drifted into silence.

“So…the way I see it,” Armel started, “You have two choices…we can either continue fighting and one of us will end up dead. Probably me. Then the golems will come and kill you. And I’m sure you can take a golem. I don’t doubt that. Hell, you can probably take two even in your condition! But get five or six of ‘em in here, and the third one is gonna kill you. The other option is that we let you go with the baby. But you’re gonna have to talk with me first.” At this, Heartless slammed her fist into the ground. She whipped her head around and faced him.

“You are unacceptable. Poisoned,” she growled. Armel shifted to sit up, holding his head.

“You’re the one who didn’t kill me,” he said. Her eyes widened a bit and then narrowed. She looked back at the door. Armel watched her back. Heartless tore herself up from the floor and marched in front of Armel, planting herself firmly in front of him.

“I have no interest in bloodshed,” she said. Armel’s eyes widened; she scowled.

“You have many scars,” Armel commented. Heartless thumped her chest.

“And you as well. I have battled fifty.”

Armel thumped his chest, “I have battled two hundred.” Heartless snorted.

“Two hundred? Age becomes your enemy.”

“Age becomes your wisdom.” Heartless pounded the floor. Armel jerked his head.

“It is dishonorable to refuse to win against another,” he continued.

“Have you cheated me out of victory? Do I say forty-nine, now, old man? Old gelding?” Armel’s eyes widened and he snorted, whinnying.

“Do you speak to me? Old gelding?” he cried out, “You, filly. And how many of those forty-nine are dead? Do you dishonor the clan by betraying their trust?”

“No! I am not dishonored. I have not been cast out,” she cried out, “I have no desire for bloodshed.”

“You dishonor your clan!” he responded, “You dishonor them by leaving! By refusing to kill! By taking in a fire fowl! You are dishonor!” Heartless hit him across the face. Armel’s face, already turning discolored, shifted as her fist hit his cheek. Her face turned into stone, set in a permanent kind of grimace. Armel had to hold his face to look back at her.

“Okay,” he slurred, “Tell me, mare…how this came about.” Heartless spit at him.

“Tell me, gelding, how this came about,” Heartless retorted, motioning with her right arm at the cell. Armel bristled. They stared at each other, glaring.

“You were in our territory. Ryuu thought you might be able to help us.” Heartless’ ears perked up.

“You see, though you are a great threat, mare, you have a rare child with you not of your own,” Armel continued, “You are strong, quick, and smart.” Heartless relaxed her shoulders and snorted. She waited while Armel spit up more blood and adjusted his position.

“We ask if you are able to assist us,” he said.

“What is it that you want?”

“We need more fighters who can defend against the enemy.” Heartless closed her eyes and flared her nostrils. Armel closed his eyes, wiggling his earring laden ears. She cracked her knuckles and opened her eyes again.

“No,” she replied, standing up, “I will not fight for you. We have talked. Now take me to Seren.”

“Alright, young one, do you make a solid promise to not harm anyone here?” Heartless snorted.

“Do you promise to let me leave with Seren?” Armel raised his eyebrows.

“Am I not a unicorn like you?” he asked.

“Of the Ragebrood,” she replied, giving him a quick mouth grin, eyes still intense. They stood up, Armel with some trouble, and Armel knocked on the door.