Leo hears his name in that familiar voice, and he looks over to see Donnie, struggling to get up. Worry and fear flashes over his face, but before he can so much as reach out, a beast attacks from behind, claws rending a deep tear in the flesh of his left arm.

Blood doesn’t pour out of the wound like it should. Instead it seeps out sluggishly, like it’s already congealed.

Leo doesn’t have the capacity to think about that, though, as he whirls on his attacker. His normally tactical mind has gone blank, leaving behind only the instinctual need to flee - and, much more strong, the instinctual need to protect, no matter the cost to himself.

So he throws himself at the beast, and while his sword movements are as practiced as ever, the rest of his body language screams animal, more than he ever has since the day he mutated. Not predatory, perhaps, but wild and fierce.

He still isn’t speaking. That’s probably the strangest thing.