Wheeling Gull Isle Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

Before she could work herself into a fret over his wounds, he was gone, diving back into the fray - clambering up the sea beast to sink his incisors into the fat of its neck. It roared in pain, the sound vibrating through her sternum as the Lady drove on once more - Connor at her side. 

The nightwisp chose to leap towards the walrus's face, legs dangling as her teeth sunk into the cut of its whiskery wuzzle; hanging between the tusks of the great seal-like creature, it had no choice but to sway angrily, bellowing its pain yet unable to retaliate. 

Though her jaws screamed, threatening to snap apart like the oversprung clamps of a beartrap, the wisp clung to the sea-tusk's snout, clinging and tearing deeply into the tender flesh until Rosencrantz dispatched it. 

The walrus fell with a thunderous crash, the wind knocked from her lungs as she went down with it - smacking wetly against the rain-whetted sand. 

Hazily, she was aware of a crimson-streaked Rosencrantz striding past as she slipped, stumbling to her paws. Shooting a glance at Connor, she dashed after him - calling out weakly. 

"Rosen'!" 

"You're hurt," she murmured softly, confused why he was running as she cut off his escape - rosebud nose fluttering through the air worriedly. 

"Let me help you," she urged in a whisper, salt on her tongue as the rain picked up - driving across her dark features and dancing over her lips with the taste of the sea.