Rotten stripey stripe

And just like that the tiger was gone. Tyrian watched it go with no small amount of glee. His mirth faded as he realized the lamb was still alive. It had hung so limply in the tiger's jaws he'd thought it was already gone. Welp, there was no saving it. The tiger's deep bite on its lower back and Tyrian's own marks on its neck spelled the end for the little baby. Best not let it suffer.

Aggravated, he stepped forward and quickly killed it; even going so far as to afford its death more care than he'd give the average prey animal. After all it would have made a fine addition to his flock and it was dead because he couldn't protect it. Tyrian tsked in disappointment and shook his head before glancing over at the bushes where he'd flung the survivor. At least he still had the one. He retrieved its rope and then turned back to the woman who'd helped him. "Thanks for your help, couldn't have sent that bastard packing without you."