Neverwinter Forest Army of angels

His swift approach made her heart hammer weakly in her chest. There was no question of his intent, she thought; he couldn't possibly intend to spare her with such confidence in his step. When he drew near, Cthulhu flinched and tried to curl tighter on herself. Oh, if only she could seek refuge in the earth, in a hole in the ground, and be safe from this merciful end...

But Mordecai didn't reach out his snout to slash at the side of her throat. He didn't crush her beneath his weight. Instead, he offered her pity, or something suspiciously like pity. Cthulhu was a weak creature who fell prey easily to pity, false or otherwise, and as he asked if she could stand, she latched hopefully on to his momentary care. "Cthulhu can try," she whispered into the floor. After a couple less-than-stellar attempts, she managed to gain her feet, though she shook terribly.

Her eyes went back to Mordecai then. She noticed only obvious things about him—he was bigger and healthier and could probably kill a deer by himself, while she was small, matted, and pathetic. Other details passed her by, either because she simply didn't notice or because she was unable to from where she stood.