<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/Yg0EHpF.jpg)</div><strong>Hunter:</strong>Alyssa Sturm<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Pictured, but not holding a shield.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Near the RV, Mount Shasta<br/><strong>Current Action:</strong>Protecting James<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>James, a naughty puppy<br/><hr/><br/>Alyssa didn't yell out when she saw nightmarish seen that now spread out before her, where there had only been joy, peace and kindness only moments before. Yelling would have only distracted James and done nothing to stop the dog. In fact, she barely even reacted. There was no need to. She was already at a run, one which, fortuitously, was taking her right to where she needed to be. Her mace was in her hand as well, its weight comforting. her other hand was empty, the toilet paper, which had taken her away just when these people most needed her, as well as the knapsack which usually contained her mace, had been left behind somewhere. Later, she might retrieve them, but right now, they were furthest from her mind. That was, instead, focused fully on the people she needed to protect and that which was now threatening them.<br/><br/>Alyssa reached James, just as the dog lept. She spun on one foot and swung so that before it reach James, she caught it in the side. The mace was slow, of course. Ponderous, even. Sometimes hard to aim. But in times like this, when she landed a well-timed blow, that was when it became clear why it was her favoured weapon. Once it got started, it had a sort of unstoppable inertia which, though it did its best, biting her back even, still allowed her to launch the dog away a few yards, enough to give herself and, more importantly, James some time and some breathing space. The bite was, thankfully not as bad as it looked, but it seemed to have left her feeling somewhat woozy. Still, she did her best not to show it as she stood in defense. To show weakness now would only invite the dog to attempt to strike again.