planning a crash landing

The Warlord took in the girl's uncertainty as he raced towards them. She was no fighter - which made it strange that she would be out here alone, with no protection. “Hold your ground” He advised, knowing if she ran, the half-maddened, infected creature would chase. He wondered if she was brave enough to do so, the panther had saliva dripping from its chin, crystals littered across its cheeks. It looked half starved and crazed, a creature from a nightmare.

Then the Warlord was there. Slamming bodily into the stalking panther, and knocking it off its paws. The Warlord was almost twice the height of the panther - which stood almost head to head in height to the pale wolf. He didn’t drag out the fight, he dug his teeth into its neck, and ended its life as quickly as he was able to. He let it collapse at his feet, and turned to the stranger. His eyes sweeping her up and down for signs of injuries. “You can’t fight?” it was half a question, half accusation.

"Sirius Fatalis"