Asher looked away.  Even with as much turmoil the Chief had put him through in his life, he was still essentially a father figure, and watching him die was not something he ever wanted to witness.  The man fell to the ground with a dull thud, kicking up dirt, blood pooling from his open mouth.  It was unceremonious, seemingly contrary to the glorious death he always promised to those who looked up to him.  The fighting seemed to die down considerably, the sounds of the odd skirmish breaking out across the village scape.  Asher finally turned, cracking open an eye at his fallen guardian.  He couldn't hold his gaze for long.  He turned his eyes on Seraphina, warily.<br/><br/>It was as if the blood lust of the Clan possessed<span style="font-style: italic">her</span>now.  She was glowing with white hot fury, almost in a literal sense.  His fingers tightened round his bow, holding his last arrow under his thumb with a nervous grip.  Something didn't seem to be in place here, and it wasn't because she had just killed the man who raised him.  The young hunter set his brows, lifting the bow into a ready position, arrow notched loosely into the string.  Nevermind the vampires closing in around him; if she was seeing blood, he would be the first target, and she wouldn't be easy to stop.  He didn't want to kill her- he shouldn't have to, but he wouldn't let her slaughter him mindlessly.  Somehow, he doubted she wanted that either.  He knew what it was like, what the Clan blood did to someone.  It cancelled all restraint.<br/><br/>“Stand down,” he ordered her calmly.  “You're seeing blood, lassie.”