[He can't move. He can't think. He can't speak. It hurts. Oh god, that was his arm, he can't just walk that one off, that was his arm. And it's gone. Crushed, surely irreparable. He'll have to hide himself or shift back without it, if he even lives but he's not so sure, as his head lifts up slow and he watches, blearily, as Peter tries to wail down upon the monster.

It's not working. Peter's going to die. That thought breaks through the pain, a sickening and horrible thing.]

No. [His voice is little more than a croak at first. He watches those jaws open wide.] NO! No! Please! Please, don't hurt him! He's just a boy! He's just a boy!

[Body still trembling, he tries to rise.] Don't...Don't hurt him! You can have me!