Emberwood [m]Reach for light.

Even though I recognized a wounded heart
Why do I end up hurting and leaving the same scars?

---

 Let it end. 

Grackle's bites had lost their feral edge, only skimming the surface, and her blows were weary and languid. The maelstrom that had once raged within her had receded, yielding to a creeping exhaustion. It felt like a bomb that had ignited with fiery brilliance but now flickered, vanishing as abruptly as it had been torched.  This once exhilarating game had now overstayed its welcome; the delight she'd taken in it had ebbed away.

 If she couldn't match her opponent's strength, she'd overwhelm him with speed. Two sharp snaps at the tender nose, inadequate to leave a bruise but enough to bring forth stinging tears. Ears pinned, tail tucked, leaving him nothing to grasp, she pressed on with relentless force.

Now, it was his turn to fall beneath her paw. With him on his back, an opening beckoned. Her teeth, slick with gore, darted forth to clamp down on his throat, determined not to relinquish their grip until he begged for mercy. This match had drawn out long enough.
Enough. Enough. Enough.

"Stop!"

She froze, her exposed fangs brushing lightly against his skin. No flesh was torn, and no blood drawn. An abrupt hush, a stillness, disturbed only by the heavy gasps for breath.

Grackle withdrew slowly, her steps unsteady. She couldn't afford to faint and risk causing further harm. She had done enough already. The game had ended, but the reverberations of the confrontation continued to pulsate through her, a relentless reminder of why it was so important to keep your emotions in check. Something she had failed at spectacularly.

The world around her pounded in her ears, her vision dark and swimming. The trembling obsidian figure slumped to the ground, eyes locked on the man. Was it over? Truly? Or was this some sort of trick? She was too tired to care.