[He grips her hand hard, still fighting and struggling to get them out of there. The situaion's turned him into little more than a bundle of survival instincts, sheer rage and terror driving him into a frenzy of bloodlust. With his free hand, he brings his claws into play, raking them down anything he can reach; he gores a cannibal's eye with his horn and sinks his own fangs into another's jugular, trying to do anything, anything, that'll help them make it out alive.
It's not enough. Without the speed and strength his blood gives him, his rage is nothing more than a dying boy's last resistance against the inevitable - for the few he's managed to take out, another two or three replace, bearing him down to the ground as his howls of fury turn into screams of pain.]
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It's not enough. Without the speed and strength his blood gives him, his rage is nothing more than a dying boy's last resistance against the inevitable - for the few he's managed to take out, another two or three replace, bearing him down to the ground as his howls of fury turn into screams of pain.]