The Heartwood Take the oxygen straight out of my own chest.

Everything was moving so fast. The hunger in his stomach made keeping his thoughts clear much harder than usual. The taste of blood beckoned him to take a bite, to chew, to eat something despite the taboo it came with. His teeth only made a bit of contact, scratching the surface as he hungrily bit at the air while the boy went down, stumbling over his own feet while the paladin did nothing other than try to grab hold of something than just loose skin.

The landshark was down, fallen over his own haze and inability to completely think through his actions. There was a moment of clarity in the knight's mind, to turn and take this moment to flee - but what if the boy pursued? How long could he evade this battle-hungry goliath until their teeth clashed once more? No. He would have to continue until one of them was down. A rabid dog would never give up the pursuit to bite its target, and neither would this one once the flailing was done.

In a moment Rosencrantz rushed forward, with every intention to place a heavy paw right on the boy's neck and slide it upward to rest below the boy's jaw to further control his snapping jaws, while another paw was planted firmly on the ground. Should he succeed, he would place as much weight on it as possible, to choke out the gargoyle. The Knight's jaws were aimed to try and pin down the boy's shoulder to prevent him from getting up - should everything work out in his favor of course. Even the most battle savy of warriors would know that not everything went according to plan, no matter how well thought out it might be.