Drowning. He was drowning.
Garreth was almost positive that his ribs were broken beneath the boot of the burly stoat brutally stomping him into the mud. Every gasp for air brought a choking rush of water that quickly - but in his mind, so painfully slowly - drained him of any and all energy. Painful panic pounded in his ears amid the muffled shouts and war cries under the water. Was this it? Was he dying? Had he finally failed his chief?
The last thing that registered in his mind before unconsciousness took over, feeling his wrists being tied from a great distance, was a sudden change in the commotion of the fray. A rumbling of heavier and furious footsteps, multiple crashes and yowls of redefined chaos.
His stoat was kneeling in the downpour with short rope, binding the blind-beast's wrists, when the oncoming brick wall slammed him and his cohorts hard into the muddy stream. Another brave ferret, attempting to bind Hesari, did not quite make it out of the way, and howled where he fell, an arm snapped at a horrid angle. The other vermin, distracted, had no idea at first what had hit them, and scattered in their confusion, lashing out all around for the thing that had just broken their mob.
Another ferret that had managed to avoid the brutal collision, took one look at the massive rat charging up the stream and bolted, scrambling up the slippery ditch and into the woods with her heart in her throat. Almost immediately, she slammed head-first into another she-beast in the brush, bowling the both of them over. Seasons of reflexive training kicked in, and she pinned the polecat to the ground, dagger poised and fearsome tattoos warped into a fearsome snarl.