Hideaway Strath I got friends in low places

Temporarily moving back and going on the defense doesn’t work for long — or at all for that matter. He’s only backed up about two steps before Nyra is on him again. Taking a lower blow for his shoulder and he feels her teeth sink in, grab, and rip. A solid chunk of skin going with it. The wound will be about a half an inch deep with a width of two inches. She got him good for sure and he will not tolerate it. She’s fucking over.

After the stumble and the chunk of flesh being ripped from his shoulder, he ticks his chin to his chest and twists his head snatching up the back of the Paladin’s head. The first few yanks don’t do it and at this point he’s just chewing on her ears and head. Causing horrible puncture wounds that have a chance to pierce her cranium, but he doesn’t. With a final step back and the planting of his feet firmly on the ground he lets go and grabs once more, a push and a yank and she’s begging flung from his shoulder. 

He can feel the puncture wounds and tear there pouring blood and with the amounts of adrenaline he has, he’s able to sling her to the ground. He doesn’t even give her the idea of being able to get up and fight back. Jumping atop her and lowering his body into a wide firm stance he grabs her throat mercilessly. His muscles ripples beneath a coat as he puts his whole body into shaking her. Her body flailing between his thick limbs that cage her in. 

The blood from his shoulder and head drip mercilessly over the two of them. It looks like an absolute bloodbath. But after a fair few seconds of him shaking her he feels her stop struggling. To which he shakes her a good couples times after he realizes this but then it finally clicks. 

Did he just fucking kill her? He asks himself, already wide and shaking eyes looking at her blooded, wet, form as he drop her and pulls back. He’s panting heavily, black tongue hanging all the way out of his bloody mouth. Heaving in lungfuls of air he just stands there for a minute. Literally a minute. The horrid sounds of a dog fight ceasing to deathly silence. 

“Nyra.” He says with less bite, but more stern concern. He slaps a heavy paw to her face — once, twice, and finally she’s awake. He sighs, looking at her for a second before moving off of her. Allowing her up he looks to her. Still panting he’s able to close his mouth long enough to produce words. “I thought I killed you.” He huffs a small laugh. “Worried me for a second.”