A tiny, illogical part of Tryn had held out hope that maybe this stranger would turn out to be a mighty, evil-smiting paladin with the skills of a legendary warrior, able to snap her fingers and send the Frost Manx into oblivion in tiny pieces.  Needless to say, these hopes winked out of existence the second she started using him as a meat shield.<br/><br/>Well, everyone had to be good at something, right?  It just so happened that he was good at taking punches so someone else could sit on the sidelines and enjoy the anticipation. Well.... Punches, yes.  Talons, claws, and fangs?  Not so much.<br/><br/>Determined not to tap out now, the young fighter firmly widened his stance.  Swallowing hard, he adjusted his grip on his torch, brandishing it front of him like a shield.  His eyes were locked on the glowing golden orbs that hovered not ten meters away, the only sign of the beast that otherwise blended perfectly into the snow.<br/><br/>Hardly daring to move, he gave two sharp flicks of his wrist, and the torch blazed to life.<br/><br/>The Frost Manx screamed again, eyes flickering out of sight for a brief moment as the beast shied away from the light, but they quickly returned.  It made sense that a torch would hardly be enough to scare off a creature like this completely, but again, Tryn could only hope.   The eyes began to slowly circle the pair; Tryn followed.  He kept one arm outstretched behind him in a futile attempt toâ€”what?  Protect this complete stranger?  He wasn't even sure if he was going to be able to protect himself, and he practically made a career out of that.<br/><br/>Feeling less and less confident about escaping the streets alive, he tapped the traveler's arm and gestured toward the wall behind them.  When she didn't move quickly enough, he began backing up towards it, making his point by pushing her along with him.  He felt marginally safer when their backs were firmly pressed against the stone of the warehouse behind them, knowing he'd just reduced the area from which they could be attacked, but also limited their possibilities of escape.<br/><br/>Without warning, the eyesâ€”his only indicator of where the creature wasâ€”winked out.<br/><br/>Heart in his throat, Tryn scanned ceaselessly from right to left, straining his eyes into the quickening snow and trying unsuccessfully to gauge where the creature had gone.<br/><br/>When it finally made it's presence known, it was in the form of appearing mere feet away and swiping at the humans with stunning force.  The massive paw sent Tryn flying into the snow like a rag doll, claws tearing through layers of fur and coat like they were made of paper.  The fighter landed hard, breath rushing out of his lungs painfully, but by some miracle the cat's claws had missed skin.  He was mercifully intactâ€”for now.<br/><br/>Rolling over with some difficulty, Tryn managed to haul himself up on his elbows and painstakingly regain his feet.  The elven girl was still alive, miraculously, pressed back against the wall, but his relief didn't last long.  A massive gray shape came between them, and suddenly it wasn't Tryn who was the target.<br/><br/>Letting out an angry roar, the purpose of which was more to convince himself that he was brave enough to do this and not necessarily to frighten the beast, he charged.  Rushing up behind the Manx, intent on it's potential lunch, he plunged his burning torch into the side of it's neck.<br/><br/>Roaring in rage, the cat reared up, brushing Tryn aside and sending the torch bouncing away into the snow.  The damage was done however, and by the time Tryn hauled himself to his feet for the second time, he could see the beast crouching and yowling, trying to rub it's neck into the snow to quench the pain of smoldering skin and fur.<br/><br/>Snatching his torch up, Tryn waved wildly at the girl and gestured her towards a place on the wall several yards away from them: a doorway he'd noticed sometime between flying through the air and regaining his breath.  She crept along the wall towards it, thankfully understanding his inane hand motions and inaudible noise, and he limped with her, still brandishing the torch towards a great cat that was no longer so sure if they were really worth the effort.<br/><br/>They reached the door aliveâ€”only to find it locked.  Pressing the torch into the girl's hand and pointing firmly at the cat stalking them, Tryn pulled back and aimed a heavy kick at the door, just under the handle.  Three kicks later, he was able to knock in one of the middle planks.  From there it was a matter of reaching through and lifting the latch on the inside.<br/><br/>â€œInside!â€  He yelled unnecessarily; the girl seemed all to happy to oblige and was already halfway through.  He followed her quickly, casting one last look over his shoulder.  It could have been a trick of the storm, but he thought he saw a white shape drop from above, effectively hiding the cat from his sight.  He didn't pause to investigate, and slammed the door shut behind them as quickly as possible.<br/><br/>After a few adrenaline-fueled moments of manically collecting everything heavy he could find to barricade the door, Tryn was able to take time to rest.  Bending down to prop his hands on his knees he heaved a long, heavy breath.  It was warmer in the warehouse, but not by much, and his exhausted sigh left a long puff of frosted air trailing out from his lips.<br/><br/>â€œI'd be okay.... if that never happened again.â€  He huffed breathlessly, absently ripping his scarf free from his face to ease the task of breathing.  Coming down from the adrenaline of moments before, he found himself feeling dizzy and shaky, heart pounding loudly in his chest.   He could scarcely believe they'd both made it out of the situation alive.<br/><br/>â€œNo-one at the Gypsy is going to believe this....â€  He muttered mostly to himself, staggering towards a nearby crate to sit.  Feeling a draft, he looked down to examine the shredded remains of his coat.  The many layers of fur had been just thick enough to deflect the first blowâ€”three faint red scratches, like fingernail marks, traced his already-tender ribs, the only testament of how close a call it had been.  He could scarcely believe he wasn't looking at his own insides right now.<br/><br/>Remembering that he was not alone, he turned green eyes to the smaller figure, mentally slapping himself for not thinking first of her well-being.  She still held the torch, the only light in the massive room, and looked as shaken as he felt.<br/><br/>â€œAre you alright?â€  He asked, frowning in concern.  â€œNot hurt, are you?â€