It was over. Sweat beaded across the dunskin doe’s hide, diluting the blood spatter as it mixed together and streaked down her legs. Her flanks heaved with exertion, her eyes feral from the fight. She slowly straightened from her feline crouch when she realized that all eyes were now on her. The victor. There were no cheers, no whispers, simply silent acceptance. This was how it was and had been in Blackwood. They knew only violence and cunning, something Sévérine had proven she had plenty of. The tip of her twisted horn flashed red as she raised her head to survey the crowd. Her subjects.
Her first thought was that lasted far longer than I had hoped. She was not one of much patience. But she should have known better, as her opponent had earned her position as queen just as Sévérine had done now. But showing weakness in this kingdom had consequences, and she had been laying in wait for the day that the queen slipped up. Sévérine had been training in secret, learning fighting skills as soon as she learned that in Blackwood, the title of Queen was won, not given. She had sharpened her horn the night before, common for warriors before battle. And it had served her well tonight.
The wildness slowly faded from her eyes as she reined it in, replaced with a cool composure as she now viewed them from under hooded lids. She dared anyone to challenge her now, her heart racing as the severity of the situation slowly sunk in. She was Queen. Praise Uir! Her mother had been right all along, and this day had come! Raising her head high, she took a step forward, and the herd parted like water for her. Some bowed their heads, others raised them high, and for once in her life, she was grateful. Had the atmosphere not been as it were, she would have thrown her head back and laughed.