The moment seemed to narrow down to just them, himself and Symon and the blade that sank into flesh and spilt blood and wet, red gore down to the earth below. The smell felt thick enough to coat the back of his throat, worse than anything he'd experienced before, immediate and inescapable.

But even with the smell and the sight before him, Asra couldn't miss the way Symon almost seemed to enjoy it, which seemed to make it that much worse.

He wasn't certain what to make of it all, his stomach churning and his attention hyperfocusing on the tiniest of details - the way the flecks of blood on Symon's skin caught the light, the dying light in the creature's eyes - and it didn't occur to him that one of them should be keeping an eye on the situation. That there'd been more than one howl in the forest.

The reminder came as sharp and sudden pain, ripping deep into his back and side and it was only as the world became a dizzying flash of sky and ground that Asra realised he'd been struck hard enough to send him flying. He lifted his head enough to try and shout a warning, but only managed a choked sound as the second beast reached a massive clawed hand down to heart at Symon's shoulder and try to rip him bodily free from under the corpse.