Fox's Glade i’ll dig her up tonight

His strike is successful; his teeth pair with the soft flesh of the heathen's underside, and soon they are both sent tumbling to the ground. The other screams. Merrit folds his ears againt his wails. Do you know what we must do?

Merrit holds the heathen's arm with the weight of his head, and aims to shove his shoulder into the other's chest to try and gain better grip of the man.

How this must end?

The other is volatile, violent in his movements. Merrit feels his grip slipping. He has less than seconds to make his choice, a decision he has never needed to make.

He thrusts against the ground with the force he can muster at this strange and twisted angle, and swings his leg and torso in an airborne arc. Open jaws plunge at the heathen's neck. He aims for lifeblood, and prepares to meet nothing -- for has no way to know how to prepare for anything else.

This was a bit tricky to write, given Parasite's current position, but I tried to give you the opening for an out in that last paragraph!