to the depths

Henbane is brutal. She is absolutely brutal. The last coyote in her line of sight is upon her, diving into her shoulder, ripping at her ear. She growls, snarls. Feels the creature as it sinks its teeth into her face, the soft flesh of her cheek giving way beneath its teeth. Hen whimpers. Rounding her shoulders, flinging the coyote forward with a sickening crunch. It twitches, crumples on the ground before her. Blood runs down her face, and she feels... alive. In pain, but alive. Henbane is victorious, standing over the creature's corpse for a moment.

It's the last coyote that clobbers her, seemingly out of nowhere. Five? Six? How many had there been? How many was this? She was tired, the kind of tired that seeped into her bones. As the beast clobbered her, she stumbled, shook. The coyote comes at her in a way she doesn't expect, and Hen is blindsided. Fighting back against the thing, rallying hard. Teeth shining, snapping. Henbane was still swinging, the two wrestling each other into the rocky sand. Snarling, covered in blood, but at her best. It's the last coyote on the beach, and at this point, it's personal.

"Speech"