`I've Got Soul but I'm Not a Soldier`
Just when Eirene thought they could not be in anymore of a compromising situation, the man pulled them back further into the rocks. Into a hole she had not thought to be there previously. It was almost an ingenious spot to hide were it not for it being right in the line of where the creatures ran. The two were so tightly packed into the sharp crevice,the man held her so tightly she believed she soon run out room to breathe. Very rarely was Eirene made uncomfortable by touch, in fact it was one her defining characteristics. But being manhandled by a stranger let alone a nude one was disconcerting. Though this was no time to be concerned over a matter of flesh. Their demise would sooner come and Eirene would be concerned over the appropriateness of their proximity.
The wait for the inevitable was excruciating, it seemed as though at any moment the earth would give way to the creatures. Break under the weight their thundering steps, it was a small relief that the earth was so resilient, made sturdy. For the creatures pounded past them in droves. Each landing heavily on the ground only feet away from them, but continuing to where ever their destination was. Guilt began to build inside of the personification, the creatures could remain oblivious to the pair hiding. But they would find another, something else to needlessly destroy. The earth’s trembling muffled, the thunder grew deeper the further those creatures went. Her ears were no longer bombarded by sounds of their voices, her mind cleared from the blind rage the hoard carried with them.
It felt like a weight of pressure was lifted off her, their hatred fleeting along with them. Eirene could not stop the exhale of relief, her body relaxing backwards. But their hatred must have overshadowed anything her rescuer must have been feeling, because as soon as they quietened she could feel that he was not faring well. The heat of pain pulsating forward she opened her eyes to meet his, “You’re hurt.” Eirene breathed, she figured she could use the hem of her skirt to bandage any wounds. Her hand travelled from her ear in search of the source of his pain. Only to clench at the sound of falling rubble coming from the mouth of their hiding spot. She had been fooled by the quietening rage that had never fully sounded off, and now she was taunted by the heavy breathing of a searching creature.
Her spirits fell there was truly no way they could defend themselves, she carried no weapons and clearly neither did he. She had relaxed too soon, and now they would soon be found. She wanted to apologize to the man more than anything, but before she could make another move. She felt a tug at the hem of her dress, gasping she released the stranger not wanting him to pulled out with her.
It was a blur of grey, flesh and tearing. Eirene scratched at the ground pulling loose a now bloodied rock. Her light dress tore stopping the dragging motion, she turned to look at her attackers but only found one. She scrambled away from the creature and the opening, hoping it would not notice her rescuer. It stalked towards her, and she readied her rock aware of the ache in her fingers. They would have to shift and hope they could fly fast enough. The creature lounged forward grabbing at her hair, and pulled upwards. Eirene kicked frantically, using the little force she could manage to bash the creature over the head. She yelled at the man, “Just shift!”
Every part of Ascalaphus tensed, all of his muscles screamed in agony, but his concern was with the girl. He held her tightly -- perhaps too tightly. His shoulder throbbed with intense pain, that only got worse as the moments went on. Everything seemed to be clear, though, the troop was passing and the scouts were going to carry on. They could wait a few minutes, crawl out of the ditch and make their way to safety... Of course he'd probably shift into an owl, so that he wasn't prancing along nude beside the young woman, and perhaps explain himself a little better - certainly she would have questions. For now, his hands would just tighten, taking possessive hold of the boy in his arms. When something grabbed her an pulled, she let go, but he refused to, which jolted his shoulder harder, making him cringe in pain. He wanted to scream, but so far, the hoard hadn't been alerted, and it was just a wayward scout. If he screamed, if she screamed, the group would no doubt hear the sounds and turn back to seek out their tail. "Shit." Ascalaphus snorted, one hand holding his wounds while his other arm lay limp at his side, his legs doing all the work to get him out of the cavern. Shifting -- there would be no point, he was faster on foot, if he couldn't fly, and there was no way his wing would take the pain as easily as his arm could. "I CAN'T." he huffed, scrambling to get to his feet. One, just one of those scouts, standing there with the woman in his grip, and blood pouring from his face. Well, here it was again, a moment in which Cal could play hero, and do something completely stupid, probably end up someones diner jacket. But, rather than run off and leave the girl to die, he ran straight toward the scout, turning to ram his injured shoulder into the apex of it's ribs. He figured, why hurt both arms, when this one was already torn to absolute shit. Internally he was screaming, externally he was surprisingly silently, scrambling to pin the thin to the ground, forcing his limp arm to work with him. It was an immense pain that made his body tremble, and his stomach was doing flips. For everything he was worth, the man crushed himself down against the scout. Ascalaphus had a surprisingly large frame for a man with no fighting experience or ability. The twisted soul scowled and drooled, spitting saliva into Cal's face. The young boy managed to grab a branch and hold it down to the monsters neck, using all his body weight to crush the things throat. Despite the claws down his back, and the kicks to his side, Cal held on for dear life -- not his, but the girls -- and refused to let up. He'd never been so rushed with adrenalin in his entire existence. Soon enough, the thing was coughing blood, and the claws in his back retracted, his hands falling lip. Cal was taking no chances, though, he stayed another moment, crushing the stick harder into the scouts throat. Once he was sure it was dead, he fell to the side, using one hand to support himself while trying not to throw up.
