King Elk Forest Ungrateful

Her chest hurt, thinking about him facing off against the hurricane-force that was her captor; but she felt her love of him swell as he made his promises, her knight in swarthy armor. Her fear ebbed only slightly with this — and while she was terrified for him, Camilla felt her guard slacken in his company. She let herself hope, and scuttled closer so that she could press against him - feeling his warmth among the cold ferns, shuddering with fear she could not help, and sighed, I wish — but before she could finish, there came the deep notes of her captor's voice, and she froze like an anxious deer.

She was stricken for all of five seconds, before kicking off the dirt and lunging straight for the thickset man; in an act that could be compared to a mother defending their child, Camilla would put herself directly in to harm's way if it meant Phox could escape. She saw only one way out of this — for Phox to be safe, words would be of no use, he would have to run. Sacrificing herself was the least of her own worries. Men could do all manner of horrible things to her (they had, and if she survived he would), but she wouldn't let harm come to this boy.

Her teeth bared, her wild-kept fur haphazardly spiked, she went straight for his big stupid face with its toothy grin and loosed a caterwaul of snarls in an effort to distract — but one look from the oncoming storm and she'd be felled, seeing as she was the furthest thing from a warrior. Maybe it would give Phox enough time. Better yet, maybe he'd follow through and kill her — and then she'd have saved herself too.