A glad and peaceful smile was frozen on Elenoras lips, as she dropped lifeless on her, Venia felt tears falling from the woman’s eyes. Unlike the ice cold rain they were hot, salty, rolling down Venias face. “Don’t do this to me!” Venia screamed. Incapable of moving she still clinged on to her long time friend, even after the shielding wall of magic had closed, and the Naga witches and Albin clergy began counter attacks against the forest on the mountain slope. Venia did not see or hear any of it. The icy rain falling on her and the lifeless Elenora on top of her, unnoticed. Others came over shouting at her, but not a single word was heard by her.   “I love you, you’re my sister! You showed me the true meaning of that word. Sister.” Venia stood in the dense forests around their hut. Elenora smiled at her. “I love you too my sister!” she sighed a glad sigh. Tears ran down Venias head, cooled and diluted by the rain. Slowly the sounds of the world around her came back to haunt Venia out of the place in her mind.   “cover their flank!” Wathrons voice barked a command to the magi. Carefully Venia slid out from underneath Elenora, laid her carefully on the soft ground. Still the peaceful smile on her lips and around her eyes stared at her. “I will be back shortly, don’t go away.” she whispered, gently kissing her on the forehead. The bystanders wanted to say something but with a roar of hatred and anger Venia propelled herself forward, gliding through the magical wall with ease she soon disappeared in the falling night, flying towards the mountainslope, always avoiding the discharges fired from the forest and from behind. She felt her fellow Naga aiming for the spots of the forest that tried to shoot at her. A fire was burning deep down in Venias heart. In every situation it gave her comfort to know that there was a wild untamed side of her, burning in her veins, capable of exploding into a firestorm of passion. Once a year the fire drove her crazy, made her do things she normally wouldn’t do. But in that night on the hills near the prairie the fire raged, burned in her veins, hurt her more than at any given time of her life, she felt the stinging pain of it burning in her eyes. A primoridal side of her awoke, in the hwoling winds and pouring rains she caught the scent of the attackers. In another situation the strange smell might have caused her to pause, maybe even to be frightened. But that night she plunged down into the forests, a magical discharge missed her by mere milimeters, but her stinger did not miss. Savagely she tore the stinger sideways out of the victim, causing him or her to die of the wound rather than the poison. Quickly she ducked away under the heat of another discharge, slightly scorching her right wing. In her state of mind she did not feel it, flung her dagger in the direction of the discharger. Satisfied she heard a cry of pain, while she sunk her teeth in the throat of an unsuspecting creature that had come to aid the first victim. Her priomordial anger and savagery filled her entire being as her teeth piecred through fur, skin and muscle, filling her mouth with blood. Before another of the creatures could attack her, she let go of the bitten creature and turned in the direction she had thrown her dagger in.