Moral to the Story

It was the dig of claws in his shoulders that had him snarling again, the pressure put there almost painful with how they dug in and gripped. It almost would've hurt less if they were sharp and slicing and not trying to break skin from sheer pressure alone. Heavy, heavy and crushing and Ganymede wasn't too sure he could keep his legs under him much longer, and the pushing on his back was increasing. Teeth scraped painfully against his muzzle, likely dragging lines there as Ganymede yanked his head to avoid having his jaws held shut. He certainly could feel the soft beading and welling up of blood there. To have his jaws held was to leave himself helpless in all of this, and he refused to be helpless to this beast.

Ganymede’s shoulders ached, the bruising from before no longer numb but painful and throbbing, and now the place where this Valorin’s teeth had scraped and dragged against the more delicate skin of his muzzle hurt. If it wasn't for the rush of adrenaline and anger, mind caught in the swirl of this fight for his freedom, he would've been done for. He was a healer, a hunter, not typically a fighter. Instead he was spurred on by it, by the worry, the anger, and the pain. It was a heady mix, if he was honest. He let his legs drop out out from underneath him, winding himself in the process of dropping chest and belly against the creek bed, keen to use his smaller size to his own advantage in this fight. The moment his stomach touched the cold water, he rolled and lunged up with teeth bared, aiming for chest, neck, or even shoulder.. If he could latch his teeth into it, then he was going to attempt to aim for that area. Paws reaching to grapple at the demon prince’s legs or shoulders where he could reach. He had just earned this freedom, he would do anything to keep from losing it so soon after.