In the distraction the elf’s attack granted, Ryathane gritted his teeth as he gave the caught tail of his coat a final tug. His coat tore free, adding yet another rip to the worn clothing item. As the manticore pulled its tail from the ground, the paralyzing poison on its stinger glinted menacingly in a thin ray of moonlight that momentarily shone through a gap in the canopy.
	Ryathane jumped to his feet to the chorus of Aeylisia’s pained cry.
	With the creature’s back to him, Ryathane caught sight of the remnants of one of his so-called ‘enchanted’ nets clinging to the beast’s flanks.
	He glanced over to Aeylisa as she drew his bow, blood slowly beginning to soak a portion of her skirts around a gash formed by the creature’s sharp claws. 
	Unsure whether his action came more from the instinct to protect his temporary hunting partner, or from the fear of losing the manticore (and in turn his pay), when the beast charged and Aeylisa released the bow, Ryathane drew his short sword and dashed toward the manticore, the poison-tipped arrow sinking into its skull. Weaving nimbly around its flailing tails as it let out an ear-piercing cry of agony, he gripped the fragmented net and wrapped it around the tails as well as he could, tying them together. He used the momentum of the flailing appendages to catapult himself onto the creature’s back as, blinded with pain and rage, it collided with Aeylisia.
	He gripped the creature’s matted fur with one hand to hang on, and swiftly drew his short sword with the other. He plunged the thin, sharp tip into the base of the beast’s neck with as much strength as he could, the blade bending slightly as it forced its way through the manticore’s thick hide and muscles. Using the weapon as an anchor, he threw his weight to the side, trying to force the manticore’s remaining path from Aeylisia.
	He inhaled through his nose as the beast fell sideways away from the elf, the creature’s fowl, feral stench filling his nostrils. Releasing the handle, he pushed from the manticore’s body as it fell to the ground, the earth vibrating slightly beneath its deadweight. Half thrown and half pushing himself from the manticore, he landed unceremoniously on the ground with a soft “Oof!” a few feet from its back. He rolled quickly out of its reach as it struck out weakly at him with its bound tails, and its claws reached toward Aeylisia only to fall short as the poison spreading through its head wound made its movements sluggish.
	With a final whine and violent spasm, the tails fell to the ground like a dying wave, and its body went limp.
	Ryathane drew the dagger from one of his boots as he got to his feet. He watched the creature for a short moment, making certain the thing was dead before straightening, his thoughts turning from the beast to Aeylisia. Almost fearful of what he would find in the elf’s place, he cautiously made his way around the manticore, giving it a wide berth in case its body convulsed again or it still had some faint spark of life left.
	At the sight of her on the ground, skirts soaked in crimson, he approached cautiously. Injured animals and humans alike were nothing to mess with when on good terms, rendering Ryathane unsure whether or not he should fear the ire of this wounded elf. He took a deep breath. Not wanting her to think he meant her harm, he hesitantly sheathed the dagger in the scabbard hidden in his tall boot, the weapon disappearing entirely inside.
	“I’d ask if you’re okay,” he began, his voice almost inappropriately light. Though he tried to keep his expression unreadable, a flicker of concern flashed through his eyes. “But I think the better question is, are you alive?” He took a couple more slow steps toward the elf, trying to get a better look at her condition without stepping into her range of attack in case she decided to lash out. He held his hands slightly to his side, showing his apparent lack of weapons, yet remained ever vigilant and ready to defend himself.