Zidane walked as quickly as he could in the mounting snow. The blanket was not sufficient to keep him warm, so he shivered.
I'm not going to give myself over this time, he thought, this time, I fight! He forced himself on the snow. It was blowing against him, but he didn't care. So long as he had the tiny knife he kept in his boot, he felt slightly confident.
Dagger gave no struggle, but only because she knew it would hurt more if she did. If she had any weapon other than her own hands she probably would have done something, but as it was, she did nothing.
Lead out to the middle of Alexandria, in the towns square, she looked out into the crowd of Alexandrians that had gathered. They weren't here to cheer on Dagger's death, rather, they were here out of respect, and that alone made Dagger feel at least a little better.
Cyra laid Dagger to the table in the middle of the square. It was nothing like the table Cyra had forced Dagger to kill Zidane upon; it was simply a stone slab, dirty and ill-constructed, more like a giant boulder rather than the beautifully carved stone table.
Dagger lay still as Cyra bound her tightly, however, if Dagger had had her way, she would have killed Cyra right there.
The snow fell quietly around as the Alexandrians stood still. They dared not move; Dagger guessed that Cyra had tossed them around a lot while Dagger was gone.
A cry echoed out from the crowd; Dagger recognized it as Eiko's voice. "Zidane!" she shrieked. Dagger craned her neck around at the same time that Cyra did. Dagger heard Cyra growl softly. The entire crowd turned to where Zidane stood, up to his shins in the snow, shivering, but holding his ground, and in his hand holding a small knife. "Let Dagger go," he whispered.
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What on earth am I doing here? What was I thinking…I can't rescue Dagger…Cyra will kill me here and now, Zidane thought, but kept his serious and confident exterior.
He could just make out Dagger's form upon the rock, and he could see her craning her neck to see him. At least she's still alive, he thought, and resisted the urge to melt into tears. Not now, he thought, I need to stand my ground.
Cyra's confused look melted into pure anger. She walked slowly over to Zidane. He held the knife up defensively, knowing now that it would have the effect of a thimble full of water against a raging forest fire. With one great slap of her paw, she threw the knife out of his hand. She laughed, staring at him. He still held his serious exterior.
Cyra walked around him, much as a panther circles a deer before killing it. Zidane followed her, not once turning his back on her. This is a survival game, he thought. If I can stay alive long enough, I might have a chance. Still feeling slightly weak, he continued to follow her. She lunged.
Thankfully, not one of Zidane's cat-quick reflexes had taken a vacation. He ducked, and Cyra missed. I just need to get something between me and her, he thought.
Cyra, now angry, was more dangerous than ever. She lowered her muzzle to the ground, almost touching her jet black fur to the cold snow below. She closed her eyes; Zidane made the mistake of relaxing. It was a big mistake. The second Cyra sensed the tension decrease, she lunged again. This time, however, she didn't miss.
Pinned down against the ground, Zidane wondered what would happen to Dagger now. He couldn't believe that he had allowed himself to relax. He gave himself over to the one thing he could do now: look into Cyra's eyes.
As he stared into the yellow-green crystalline eyes of Cyra, he shivered. So long had it been since he'd been forced to look deep into those eyes; so long had it been since he'd stared down into her dark soul.
Sensing that the only thing useful he could do now was to stall, he met her eyes fully, showing no fear at all, only reflecting Cyra's anger and showing his own purpose.
She slapped him hard across the face, not hesitating to leave her finely sharpened claws in her paw's wake. Five thin lines of red marred Zidane's cheek, yet he said nothing, only keep her eye contact with his own. Cyra reared.
She tore into him instantaneously, grabbing his back and tearing it and growling as she did so. She threw him down, hard, against the ground and walked towards him. Her long tail flicked furiously.
She circled him again, and Zidane once more followed her. But when she attacked, Zidane was in too much pain to dodge her. She hit him hard, driving him into the ground with the sheer force of the impact.
Raising her paw, she laid into him, running her claws along his back. Zidane screamed. Dagger struggled against the chains that held her down. Alexandria held on with bated breath.
A scream of fear echoed loosely from the Alexandrians; it wasn't from the horror of seeing Zidane killed in such a manner, or from the very presence of Cyra.
Before Cyra could fully register the sound, a flash of white came and knocked her to the ground. She bounced right back up again to kill whatever had just interrupted her murder of Zidane.
Cyra met eyes with Malica.
Cyra couldn't move. She simply stared at Malica for a while. Malica, however, was not the reserved, quiet, gentle animal that she had been when taking care of Zidane. With one great slap of her paw, she sent Cyra to the ground. Cyra snarled and threw herself at Malica.
The fight had begun.
The two of them exploded into a fit of growls, snorts, roars, bites, slashes, kicks, slaps, strikes, among other things. Malica brought Cyra to the ground, holding a firm grip upon her neck. Cyra pushed out of this hold before opening her wings bounding into the air before diving straight towards Malica. She moved, before jumping up and onto Cyra's back, driving her claws and teeth into Cyra. They hit the ground hard, burying their claws and teeth into each other. Cyra finally got out of the death roll and back off. She raised her paw and backhanded Malica hard. The snowy-white animal hit the ground a few yards in the opposite direction. She didn't move. Cyra walked over to her and circled her in much the same way she had done with Zidane.
As the two beasts battle, Steiner pushed his way through the crowd as quietly as he could. It was no small task; none of them wanted to move, and it was very easy to set them off in a loud display of fear and horror.
Finally he made it over to the stone table. As quietly as he could, he unbound Queen Garnet, and gently guided her back into the crowd. She strained to see what was going on; she needed to know if Zidane was alright, but all she could see was the fight.
Cyra reared, ready to send her claws straight into Malica, when Malica kicked. She kicked Cyra right in the legs and with that burst of energy, opened her wings and set herself upright. When she had kicked Cyra, Cyra had fallen into the snow, unable to get up. Malica roared, and Cyra ran.
One might have thought that as cowardice on Cyra's part. It was not. Cyra was only falling back much the way a Cobra falls back into its hole when chased by a mongoose. It lays in its hole, going deeper and deeper, the foolish mongoose chasing, until the hole widens enough for the cobra to turn and strike. Cyra's logic was stable and firm, and Malica was taking an awful risk in chasing her into the woods where Cyra had come to know. Malica didn't know the woods, but her instinct to her sister was keener.