Fast. Bold. Hard.

She came down with all the ferocity of her forebears, her temporary for in the mud and mire of the stream. Satyr blood, mad and thick, flowed through the Matriarch's veins, honed after years of the inter-famial relationships that abounded in that particular faun family. Philomel's abusive father had been one such, and though she hated both the memory of the man and his genetics in her, she had to be grateful for the muscle and strength such blood gave her.

She came down hard and brutal, unforgiving by any standards. The flame haired beauty matched her though well, dropping an arrow in surprise but able to keep up in temperament. Felicity aimed hands to grab Nameless from Philomel's grasp, but the satyr in her would not allow that.

Power. Fury. It seemed the women here were alike as their hands wrapped over the hilt together, fingers meeting fingers. They struggled, dancing in the mud as the faun refused to let go.

And she stared into the girl's eyes.

"Drys you are an incredible fighter," she hissed.