The other Synbat ran. Holly dropped the first one, the body sliding onto the ground like a rag doll, and went after the second. It hit the fence and scooted under, Holly less than five feet behind. It headed for the park, but Holly caught it halfway down the street and took it down from behind, teeth clamping down on the back of its neck. As the small hands pounded at her side, she let go briefly, but chomped down again, this time with a death grip.
In thirty seconds the last Synbat was dead. Holly placed a paw on its chest and raised her bloody muzzle to the moon.