Maurice caught something from the corner of his eye- a devil? It looked like a little girl, but he learned a long time ago not to be fooled by their appearances. Before it could do anything against him, he shifted his weight and turned, drawing his knife in a slashing motion. He should have been mindful of his footing. He should have worn better shoes for the weather. He should have taken the weather into account. Between the fire inside, and his own body heat close to his position in a crouch, the frost beneath him melted. Coupled with the uneven footing, and the shift in his balance from the strike while keeping hold of the rifle? Of course, he slipped, and fell. He was only just able to spit out a "Merde!" before he disappeared through the window he'd shot out. He lost hold of the knife in the initial tumble, but what he fumbled for so desperately as he spun towards the ground? "Ed". He payed no mind to the action unfolding as it repeatedly spun through his line of sight, he just focused on trying to save "Ed". He lost sight of the rifle, spinning faster as he was struck by something, it felt like a metal bar- [i]Did I hit the railing?[/i] He barely registered the pain in his leg before he hit the ground, hard. Now he hurt all over, his back especially. stunned, his head rolled to the side, dizzy, vision somewhat blurred. [i]Concussion, probably. A few ribs, been awhile since those were last broken. Can't seem to feel my legs... I think I might be getting too old for-[/i] His vision cleared, and focused. His vision than blurred again, with tears. Not for the sight of the fight going on without him, not for fear of being vulnerable before the devil's had been dispatched. It was for what lay next to him. His rifle, "Ed". Dashed to pieces, from the drop. He'd tried to save it, and failed, just like before. He'd lost him, [i]again.[/i] Then everything went black.