Clementine had been caught by surprise. The elf she had fought turned out to be an alicorn.
Masters of wind and nature, but talented in all elements. She had no hope of matching it in aerial combat, even with her advantage in strength. The natural affinity of a mythical creature was not so easily overcome.
Yet, the alicorn had attempted to contest her not where its strength lay, but with daggers, in an eleven form. Not only did transforming weaken them, to then even ignore its strengths.
Clementine had to admit; she felt underestimated. Especially since he had pushed close, as if trying to overwhelm her with his strength or skill. Neither of which he could best her in while transformed.
Once the smell of his blood entered her nostrils, Clementine lost sight of her surroundings. It was so rich, so captivating. Instead of focusing on killing her target, she aimed for his blood.
