Three times, three times he had been a witness to the aftermath of injury and learned later that each attack had one thing in common, their attacker. Not old enough to know much about the infamous Caesar Cipher, the weight added onto the existing severity of several Typhoon pirates getting terribly injured was lost on him. The negative connotation of the surname itself even earned no reaction from him, he at least had the benefit of only associating the Cipher name to Vayne and Lumia, both of which were far removed from the infamy that haunted the coast.

On one hand, it was too dangerous to be walking around with no one else to come to his aid, just because the jungle was the stage for each attack didn't mean the threat wouldn't shift places for an unexpected fourth target. On the other hand, though, Danny could not stay in the safety of the camp for too long, the constant conversation and presence of everyone made his anxiety worse, and locking himself inside was unhealthy. He could have been more cautious if he was going to be outside, he knew that, but one thing that managed to do the impossible and jump over his fears like a damn hurdle was the thought of hunting down a new shell for Vayne. He hadn't seen the eye that Roan had pulled out, having no reason to visit the temple that day, but heard through others that she got a less-than-nice history lesson about her grandfather from the Soothsayer himself. Between that, and getting kicked around by her own emerging power giving her hell, he just wanted to do something nice to compensate for his lack of verbal comfort.

He thought he might have found one, shimmering in the sun with an almost rainbow reflection, when he suddenly stopped. Something was wrong, he felt it, sensed it. One, there was something that stood out among the usual scent of the beach, ocean waves and salty breezes. Breathing felt a little more difficult as panic set in, immediately running headfirst into the idea that he was in danger. He was, but he had no proof just yet. Danny looked over his shoulder on impulse, taking a slow step back like he was about to bail.

God damn it.

Had he run even a moment earlier, he might have been able to avoid the strike, but why he didn’t was going to remain unknown. Maybe he thought he had more time than he did, or he was locked in place, or even that he briefly subconsciously thought he could handle the threat. Not that any of that mattered, he was beyond fucked anyway. Danny couldn’t really say he’d experienced any major injuries, the worst coming down to the deep scrapes along his side from the tree he had to push away, but that was tolerable after a few days. What wasn’t was the feeling of teeth breaking skin.

The savannah certainly hit his mark, Danny writhing soon enough to at the very least avoid the sharp fangs puncturing his trachea, back slamming against the rough sand. Still, just because he had managed to protect one structure of importance didn’t mean he was able to avoid all of them, and the side of his neck was promptly sliced open by those ivory colored little weapons.

Somewhere deep in his subconscious a flip was switched, and in his fear he lost all semblance of coherent thought minus the vague feeling of survival and getting the hell out of there. Growling loudly in feral fear and loathing after a quick sharp whine in obvious pain, [i]Danny aimed to kick Caesar directly in the gut with both back legs. Regardless if he could even get the older demon off of him, it was a little too late, considering the savannah had his jugular between his jaws. Didn’t mean he had to go out like a punk.

He would have been glad that his kick had done some damage if he hadn’t been introduced to the concept of dying. There was a moment where the grip on his throat got stronger before the pressure releasing, along with a disgusting spurt of blood from the severed blood vessel.

”Son of a bitch-” Danny hissed through gritted teeth, twitching as his entire body threatened to shut down rather quickly, nervous system giving the emergency distress signal that something was very, very wrong. Under no other circumstances would he even think of spitting out anything remotely profane, and in all honesty he probably picked up the word itself from Roxanne. He wasn’t really sure what to do, holding a less than effective hold over the injury as the the sand started turning from white to red.

One more time. He could do it, he could still get out. Even though his energy and strength was quickly going with his blood. [i]Danny aimed to try and push Caesar off again, trying to bite down on the Cipher’s front leg at the same time. Not because he was a tough guy, he wasn’t even close. He was just freaking out, afraid enough and panicky enough to do anything his instincts told him to do, either fueled by his panic or anxiety ridden feral agitation. Even while bleeding out.

Bingo, he finally accomplished something useful. The claws against his face normally would have dragged out some sort of wounded reaction from him, but he barely felt it. Just a little distant stinging as if it wasn't his own skin, rolling over and pulling himself forward with whatever meager muscle strength he had left. The Privateer's ears locked against his skull, not an uncommon look but nearly if not harrowing paired with widened brown eyes and the stomach churning injury.

Granted, blood loss was a bitch and it didn't take long at all for him to go down and out, his body landing on the beach with a soft thunk, displacing sand with the weight. Danny sort of gave up on holding his throat closed as his body went limp, blacking out with a final little choked noise while he still had the coherency to do so. Was he going to die? That sucked, this all sucked. He just got a nice good luck streak for once, too.