The dame's hands were quickly at work with cleaning themselves, a shiver darting up her spine due to her displeasure with coming in contact with the sticky honey. A hark was trained on the ebony brute, practically sensing a tension and the fact that he didn't find her apologies or handy-work genuine. In silence, she was formulating a plan to pick up her belongings as quickly as possible, grab her cane, and try to make a run for it.
Gamble's wings fluttered as he stranger approached, and he made a sharp chirp as he took to his wing again, causing the doe to turn her head a bit, the edge of her jaw colliding with a fist as she did so. She hadn't accounted on her glass jaw in an escape plan, and the fragile Wander was quickly knocked unconscious by the blow, falling limp near instantly.
It was a strange feeling, being unconscious. The dame felt as though she were engulfed with a substance, much like being bundled up in a blanket while in a deep slumber, only not nearly as pleasant. She wrestled with herself to gain purchase on the gripping pall, trying to force some part of her to move in her state of vulnerability, though no leg, arm, hark... Nothing responded. After what felt like a century of struggling, the dame succumbed to the unpleasant dark.
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