The hollow feeling in her chest, the throbbing in her side, that same old pressure of addictive hunger in her throat are the only things leaving her standing now. She needs to feed if she's going to keep going, and there's only one meal in sight.

"Elegance...was never...my intention!" she shouts as she sidesteps the spear. Twisting to the side in the process proves to be a mistake, as the difference in direction between her torso and her legs disagrees at the waist, tearing open the small efforts already made to close her wound. The pain travels throughout the right side of her body, and despite her determination to push past it, her hand is a numb mass of pins as it grips the shaft of the weapon extending in front of her with no strength behind it. She compensates by bringing in the left to assist it.

The feeling passes quickly, but as her body overclocks itself to keep her going, the hunger only quickens. Tightening her grip on the spear, she pulls it toward her, hoping to bring its owner with it.