Spitfire was ready and waiting, she had allowed no distance between herself and the Hive Tyrant and when it turned, she sprang. She roared angrily as she drove upwards with her bone blade, its point sliding up the chitinous plating that was his armor, but she was rewarded as it found purchase driving itself between two plates and bit into softer flesh. Fueled by the sight she pushed upwards further, flapping her wings and leaving the ground, to the point that she could actually place her hind legs against his waist. Her teeth grinded together with effort as she pushed, ripping and tearing the sinews that held down the chest plate of the beast as she sought to bury it as deep in his chest as she could. Green blood poured from the wound, down her bone blade and onto her foreleg that clenched it.

The pain in his chest was substantial, however it was not unbearable. And though he would never admit to it, this was the first time he had ever been so deeply gored by the likes of a pony. He drew himself up tall and looked down at the small pony that was now affixed to his chest. When her own eyes met his, he saw what he was wanting to see and he laughed.