This time he doesn't have time to block. If he was his normal self, they'd tear him open. As it is, he's thrown backward, hitting the ground hard with a cry of pain he doesn't even try to suppress. There's a burning ache in his right side, where he felt their antler scrape against his casing. There's a smell of singed plastic from somewhere. And deeper than any of that, he can feel all the fury in that strike.

After what you have done.

I want you to suffer.

He scrambles to his feet, gripping the wand for support.

Will they listen to him now, or ever? Can they?

He has to try.

"H... ha... you're really not holding back, are you, darling?"