Aubrelle did not see the rain.
Not directly at least.
The battlefield reached her from above, filtered through Pipin's eyes as he circled high overhead. From that height, the open ground looked raw and unstable, lines of movement constantly shifting as rifts spat out new threats and fighters were forced to adapt or be overrun. She tracked it all without hesitation, her focus split cleanly between the sky he commanded and the ground her body crossed step by step.
Beneath her, the stag moved as one with her intent.
Its yellow hide was streaked with mud and blood, muscles coiling and releasing in powerful bursts as it charged and braced, antlers lowering to intercept anything that tried to close in. When Void Creatures pressed too close, it met them head-on, the impact forcing space open where none should have existed. Aubrelle stayed upright through it all, posture steady, hands firm on the reins, trusting the rhythm she had learned long ago.
Arthur never left her side.
