Panther Park when rome's in ruins, we are the lions free of the coliseums

She tenses almost imperceptibly as Eastwood moves for her paw, offering a single nod when his gaze finds her. Her own eyes squeeze shut automatically when she feels him grasp the thorn, but she remains silent through the ordeal. The only signs of her pain are the brief tension in her jaw and the pause before she can bring herself to answer his question. Yes, She murmurs, drawing her tongue over her pad a few times. She starts to thank him, but something cuts her off. A rustle in the foliage ahead.
Do you hear that? She steps forward, paw forgotten as alarm flashes through her. There's a foreign scent on the breeze, one so fresh she curses herself for missing it before. Eastwood — She never gets a chance to finish her sentence. A guttural, bone-chilling sound fills the air, and some huge golden creature flings itself from the foliage, exotic and terrifying and far too fast for comfort.