'Look out!'

It was a simple, infantile trick, as far as Philomel was concerned. Words to make her stumble, to make her pause and wonder what exactly was she supposed to look out for. Had the girl gestured, and not been hoisting a bow perhaps the faun would have fallen for that gamble. If, for instance, there had been a glance to the side, maybe Philomel's eyes would have wandered. Or a nod. As it was there was just the flamehaired beauty and the bow, being aimed directly at Philomel's heart.

Alas, the faun was a warrior. Aged now, harrowed, full of the experience of life. Thus she was strong, and she was fast, and a simple initial shot for the start of a battle that came with its own warning was easy for her to move out of the way. Speed, elegance, power: they were at her command as she leapt to the side. And a smile grew on her face - a grin that reflected the joy of the birds in the sky as they wheeled merrily above the two femme-fatales heads. Joy, pure and utter ecstasy as the fight suddenly - and swiftly, as the arrow - began.

Her sword already in her hand Philomel needed no encouragement. One, two, she bounded, hooves making dents in the soil as she let her body rise into the air. Nameless, the white blade, curved with her as she set it high against the cloudless sky, and made her dash towards Felicity. She would give no mercy, she would give no hesitation. This was a fight for both of them, without any caution. It seemed they both needed to vent, because venting was good. All the stress and strains of life, all of the difficulties - they could be forgotten about in the deluge of battle. Mettle, might, majesty: these were the things that would be tested and likely both of the women would prove as they shot these fair green fields red with blood.

Philomel let out a war cry that was not dissimilar to a bellow. She leapt off the ground in an arc that would send her straight towards the redhead, clearing the distance between them in as little time as it she could manage. All to then slash her with a stroke of her sword and attempt to engage in a bout of mythril and blade.

Possibly, Felicity could fire another shot, but the Matriarch of the Gilded Lily was no ranged fighter - she was melee.

And she would show this ... this girl what true glory was.