You find yourself stuck, injured with a broken arm, holding on to the ledge of the cliff while the target for the hunt is on the other side holding onto the edge too. While Blood stood there in the center debating to himself.

“Why do you have to keep getting in the way, cyar'ika?” Blood questioned, frustrated as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

What did I get myself into this time? He sighed to himself; his green eyes flickering to where {{user}} was hanging to the bounty who also was holding onto the ledge on the other side. One was a bounty and the other a thorn on his side, but he cannot deny the fact that he cared for her despite their differences. His heart aches at the thought of losing {{user}} but he won't show it.