Deepwood Weald Fruit punch

The bear shuddered the ground as it landed once more—the roars deafening but the blood that pumped through Constantine’s veins and the thrum within his ears seemed to distance it. He did not miss the sickening crunch – his heart hammering as he could only hope it was not Deirdre in which made such a noise.
 
As the bear fell to all fours once more, his grip loosened from the impact alone in her size – he would try to maintain his grasp but it was not to be, and with a swing, he was down upon the ground, rolling in the dirt before sliding. The pain that flared within his chest seemed to take the wind from him, but when Skellige once more aimed for the lumbering beasts throat, Constantine was at the side of the ocean wolf, his own jaws seeking purchase to the tender undersides of the bear’s chest.