Wheeling Gull Isle stranded

Round 3/3
Attack: 15/20 (Discord)

A ragged scream pierced the air as the ghost bit into her shoulder. It was a deep wound. It would leave a scar. She would limp for days as it healed. Perhaps she would limp for life. The drawing of her own blood, the feeling of the deep puncture wounds, gave her a rush of adrenaline she didn’t know she had. Despite her starvation, despite her parched throat, she gave another scream, one of rage and pain and power, and went for his throat (specifically the side of his neck). Fuck him! Fuck the ocean! Fuck this island! He had given her a wound she would live with for life, but to do that, she needed to live. And she would. She would not let this lunatic kill her. This was not how she was meant to go. She put as much strength she could into her jaws (assuming the bite landed) and shook him like a dog shaking a chew toy. Now there was a madness in her own pale golden gaze. Her eyes were rolling and there was a deep growl in her chest.