The predator right up until I'm prey.

It had been many months since the last time Valkyrie had graced the swirling black mists of the West with her presence, and back then, she’d been barely a brittle shell of insecurity, confused by the curse which had swerved the steady course of her life. She was better accustomed to the masculine angles of her lean, compact frame now, aware of her altered strengths—power over nimbleness, for example—and confident that she could still conquer the world and its brutish inhabitants. Hope had been but a small blip in her plans. The thoughts circling endlessly, calculating and clever, were still very much her own and seemed to be untainted; aside from the queer white fog of lost memory whenever she sought clarity from the past. If anything, Valkyrie felt empowered by the inheritance of such an alien, repulsive physique. Still, even despite the fleshy power now in her possession, she yet struggled to understand why the females of the world were so easily swayed by their narrow-minded masculine aggressors. In the distance, the young white Pegasus could see the outline of the old dead tree. The rain no longer felt like a clandestine veil to mask its vast impression upon the horizon, so she narrowed her path upon its direction and picked up her pace—shadow still tangled about her limbs like hindering deadweights. Though her hooves fell heavily upon the frost-laden path, they left no mark to suggest she had passed. The pastel filly held between her marbled teeth the handle of her beloved spear and as the frozen foliage of the vegetation surrounding Uwaritace swallowed her, the brazen-heated Shieldmaiden tightened her grip. Slowing strategically, she began to search for the thickset creatures her task required.

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Task: Rip a Galeae's brow-shield from its head.