Anger and pain knotted in the pit of his stomach and Gallus peeked out from behind his arms. He lowered them to the ground slowly, clutching his hands into angry fists and shooting a glare up at his attacker. He spit at her feet, nearly choking on the words that came out of his mouth. “Rot in hell, monster.”
If this was going to be the day that he died, he was going to face it head on. Not like the last time he should have died. Not lying on the ground, bleeding from a cowardly blow from behind.
And maybe, just maybe, this time it would stick.
“Yeuh, whatever. Keep my spot down there warm for me, ‘kay?” Sam scoffed, glancing from the glob of spit at her feet to Gallus’s face, returning his glare half-heartedly.
“Oh, by the way, I hope ya know that when folks die, they shit n’ piss themselves. Sure you know this already, bein’ a killer of humans yerself, but I thought I’d remind ya.” she added casually, before driving her claws into his body for what she thought would be a killing blow.
For all his bravado, Gallus flinched moments before that claw crashed into his side. His eyes widened and he let out a slight gurgle and a cough, slumping forward at a rather alarming rate. Something warm and wet ran down his torso and he barely registered that it must be blood.
His eyes fluttered shut and for just a moment he forgot to breathe. Later, when another patrol found him to drag him to a healer, Gallus would wake up thanking his lucky stars he’d fallen unconscious when he did.
But for now, he thought nothing at all as he crashed headfirst into darkness.
