[Mary barely has time to roll onto her stomach and groan before it's attacking, tearing into her back and neck and making her scream bloody murder. Fucking hell, this thing is strong- and fast, didn't it feel her attack at all? Her answer is to grab its neck and dig in so hard she can feel her nails breaking and bones bruising but fuck, she doesn't care, because in her desperate throes (for the creature has long since broken skin, and she's soaking the grass with blood) she's gripping through flesh and clenching her fingers around- she doesn't honestly know what, but she sure would love it if that was a windpipe.
no subject
Time to yank.]