His eyes dart across the scenery, squinting and trying his hardest through the sweat-beads caught in his lashes to spot movement in the sand that almost sparkles against the sunlight. His heart thuds against his chest and a shudder crawls up his spine, but he does his best to ignore it. The same state he had been back at the barricades in Paris slowly dominates him, and his singular thought is: find the threat, and then eliminate it.

And then he spots it. The snake is right at her heels, ready to strike. His eyes widen and he drops the elk in shock and panic. His bow is automatically raised.

"Mademoiselle!"