RAGE
Fuck, ew. I wouldn't touch an ugly old hag like you! I don't want canine AIDs! Ouch.
Suddenly the witch had found him. She lunged to stab him, he flinched away, only being cut by the knife, along his shoulder. Then, quickly, he swung underhand to aim for her stomach with the knife he'd grabbed. By this point, he knew escape wasn't an option. He'd have to throw this bitch off the edge if he wanted any chance of that.
Maybe he'd do just that.
Whether or not he landed the knife, as soon as his arm swung, he'd roll, twisting to get his legs up and aimed for her, in case she came at him again. He hoped she would. He'd risk injury to the legs... if it meant he could send the tiny whelp flying over the edge of Anathema's entryway. Nothing would satisfy him more than hearing the crunch at the end of the fall.
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