Swiftcurrent Creek stay with me, my blood, you don't need to run

She barely hears his whisper over her own sobbing, struggling to control herself with little success. His approach goes unnoticed, too, until she feels his nose against her cheek and tension suddenly grips her body like a vice. A desperate snarl rips itself from her throat, ending in a half-whined growl as she snaps in automatic response. The attack fizzles before it even reaches him; her teeth meet the flesh of his shoulder only briefly, harmlessly. It feels like ripping her own heart out. Another ragged sob slips from her, and the attempted attack melts into a clumsy, shuddering embrace. She presses to him desperately, burying her face in his fur as she cries — and probably getting blood all over him.