Feather and claws connected with slick, sticky skin. The mudmaid ceased its keening because a good portion of its face fractured. The fishing rod was flung away onto the bank. For a split second it looked like she was going to retaliate. Water boiled around the creature as it thrashed and rolled in the shallows and clawed its way back to the middle of the pond where, no doubt, its junk-lined burrow was. Something slick and green stained the water's surface and bubbles rose in a foam.

Maurice cringed when he heard the sound of bone on bone. He stumbled in his attempt to shuffling backwards through the muck and wound up landing on his ass with the water up over his nose leaving nothing but a pair of startled eyes peering up at Heather.

She just...punched it. She punched it and it fucked right off. He tried to say, "Woah..." but it just came out as bubbles.