[ Yseult wrenches the grip on his hair tighter, her free hand trying to fend off the thrash of his arms. It's desperate and ineffective but the impact of knuckles on hip bone makes her grunt through gritted teeth, and she tries again to snap his neck, again without success, the force of her twisting just sliding them along in the mud a foot or so. When Flint arrives she just holds on and lets him work.
When it's done, and she's flopped her legs free of the corpse, she stays there for a moment, catching her breath, before rolling over and getting gingerly to her feet. ]
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When it's done, and she's flopped her legs free of the corpse, she stays there for a moment, catching her breath, before rolling over and getting gingerly to her feet. ]
I think he broke a rib. [ Worth it? ]