He was right above her.  That sword, still clasped in her hand, had buried itself hilt-deep in the beasts chest.  Hot, rancid black blood smelling of salt, sulfur and iron dripped from the beast's chest, soaking both hand and blade handle.<br/><br/>The beast did not seem to be phased by the damage done to him.  If anything, it made him stronger and angrier.  He reached out with long clawed hands and wrapped them about the girl's shoulders, tearing at flesh and cloth alike.