---

Francis had his teeth in the creature: instinct locked his jaws down around the wool-cushioned mouthful of flesh he'd secured. He tried to dig his paws into the loamy earth to skid to a halt with his quarry, but the pair careened out of his control instead.

A blur of lavender, in the corner of his eye. Francis clawed up clods of earth in a frantic effort to avoid Takala, but he heard the meaty thunk of the hoof connecting with the young woman all the same. His heart stopped cold. His stomach churned. Francis unlocked his jaws, shaking his head frantically to free his bloodied jaws from the injured sheep's wool, barking out a frantic Takala!

He didn't want to bury another stranger, Merde, He spat.

The ewe bounded away with a panicked, rasping bleat, but the Prince paid it no mind. He swept to his companion's side, far closer than he'd previously allowed himself to be. Proper etiquette was best defenestrated in times of crisis. His paws shook, but only a little, trying to place pressure against the gaping wound in his thigh. I'm so sorry.

But consciousness would not allow for such severe anguish.

As she blinked, her lids gradually became more and more weighed, the umber-light figure of her hunting companion now a blur in her clouded vision.

In the final moments of her awareness, she saw it — the panic, the shared terror in his eyes as he rushed to her side. She, too, would share in this sentiment, if only sleep hadn't been so... inviting.

Between ragged breaths, she would labor but a mere whisper between her teeth.

"Francis?"

Until, at last, the darkness finally consumed her vision.

---

continued here