Bearclaw Valley a seminar about whether or not deer feel pain or are just sad

There was a moment of clarity that silenced doubts as well as fears, when Stryx caught Val's eye; as he bolted away to freedom Stryx barely had time to take another breath, as Arielle launched towards her.

The next sensation was like a focused punch to the woman's throat. The haphazard beat of feet stumbling. The hot, slick, slow burn sensation of teeth sinking through precious veins.

Nearly four hundred pounds of pressure per square inch in that bite. A voice within Stryx's head mechanically recites.

Five minutes, tops. She wondered if fighting back now would matter at all.

She had to stay standing long enough for Val to make it out, at least. Maybe he would find the girl.

Four minutes.

Ahr-- Stryx choked, watching Arielle, wanting to plead with her. Bright red globs of blood coated the back of her throat. A spray clicked across her tongue.

Three minutes. The rush of her own pulse in her ears. Arielle's grip feels tight. Stryx can't feel much beyond those teeth in her neck and even that sensation is dying. Her legs give out.

Two minutes. No amount of pressure can stop the blood that seeps around the wound. A garish red blot stains the gray of Stryx's neck fur. She looks dirty - haggard.

As the old woman feels the last tendrils of consciousness drawing away, she is slowly swallowed by the darkness of the cave.

Was it enough? Thinks the physician, as her last breath plumes an aspiration of red.