She was in front of him. Claudia didn't even hear the whisper of the grass this time, or how the chattering had crept back into the treeline, like the toads and beetles gathered to watch the carnage. The hammering of this beast's heart was all she heard, like a war drum, like an invitation, like a dinner bell. The next time he stumbled, she struck out, open hand across the face for the indignity, powerful as a punch, her claws out to rake his skin.