The tide jaguars leap for him, his Attuned bond too weak to dissuade them from attacking. He crouches, bracing for the impact when an arrow flies, imbedding in the loose fur of the first predator. All three of the big cats turn to look at the source, a sudden wailing sound echoing in every direction, permeating the air like a chill, leaching joy and life from everything it touches. A low whimper escapes the jaguars who have tucked their tails between their legs. Their hackles are raised, ears drawn back, a panicked look in their eyes that look less at Colt and more behind her to where the stone stands, vibrations rippling out into the sand.
They both take a few, slow steps back before turning tail, stumbling from the unsettling sound as if it were a physical force. But Grimm's eyes are on Colt and the hand she'd carelessly placed too close to the banshee's resting place. Without time to worry about being 'kind' or 'gentle' or 'nonthreatening,' he lets out a low, frustrated growl and lunges at the woman. He rushes to clamp his teeth around her jacket or the strap of her quiver where he can drag her away from the banshee's stone, trading softness for survival in an attempt to get her away from the wailing shrieks.
They both take a few, slow steps back before turning tail, stumbling from the unsettling sound as if it were a physical force. But Grimm's eyes are on Colt and the hand she'd carelessly placed too close to the banshee's resting place. Without time to worry about being 'kind' or 'gentle' or 'nonthreatening,' he lets out a low, frustrated growl and lunges at the woman. He rushes to clamp his teeth around her jacket or the strap of her quiver where he can drag her away from the banshee's stone, trading softness for survival in an attempt to get her away from the wailing shrieks.
Grimm
We men are the monsters now
