That'd gone as badly as he'd imagined it would, although it hadn't ended as badly for him as it did his larger companion. Things were looking bad, even with a new ally joining the fray, and it could still get worse.

The clean shaven man lay quietly on the floor as he bled from his torso. Fortunately for him it didn't seem like the lion was interested in finishing his meal yet. He was definitely hurting, particularly in his chest area, and blood was beginning to pool around him as he lay there. He glanced at his companion's prone form, torn and bloodied levels beyond his own body. Was this how they were to die? Mauled by a feral beast in dark tunnels so far away from anything?

A grim determination soon pierced through the dazed fog that clouded his consciousness and the clean shaven man's grip tightened on the sharp rock, his only weapon. He got up onto his hands and knees, head spinning from blood loss, and quietly dragged himself behind the lion. If they were going to be eaten anyway it was better to go down swinging.

The clean shaven man made a desperate lunge at the beast's back leg, making up for his lack in strength with sheer will, the drive to at least wound the monster that had tormented them so. If this was a way to leave his mark on their small world then he would wholeheartedly give his life for it.