He's there in front of her before she even realizes. It's a credit to her reflexes that she manages to lift her hand even halfway up as she tries to block his blow. But it's not nearly fast or steady enough to stop the back of his hand from cracking against the side of her head. Pain screams through her skull as she's knocked back, landing heavily on her side. The panic keeps her going as she tries to drag herself to her hands and knees.

She barely makes it off the floor before another blow catches her in the stomach. This time, a wall stops her and deposits her in a crumpled heap on the floor. Her breath wheezes through her mouth, sounding wet in her throat. She tries to move, but a fiery pain lances through her chest. Distantly she thinks that she must have broken at least a few ribs, if not more. She feels like a rag doll made only of pieces, stitched together in a sack of skin.

His voice alternates between soft and booming, but it's hard to concentrate on either. The words tumble over her, and she only catches bits and pieces; but she smells when he draws closer and reaches out. Instinctively, she tries to curl in on herself, only to elicit another gasp of pain. "No, no... please... Kurlo..." She tries to call his name--her matesprit, not the creature in front of her. But words are hard, the pain is mind-numbing, and she's terrified to her core.