Tara

“How's your foot?” Hadrian asked.
“It hurts.”
“He had a good hold.”
“Bit right through my boot.”
“Yeah, that looked painful.”
“So why exactly didn't you help?”
Hadrian shrugged. “It was a dog, Royce. A cute, little dog. What did you want me to do, kill
an innocent little animal?”
Royce tilted his head, squinting into the light of the late evening sun to focus on his friend.
“Is that a joke?”
“It was a puppy.”
“It was not a puppy, and it was eating my foot.”
“Yeah, but you were invading his home.”
....
“You know, you didn't have to throw it out the window,” Hadrian said as they walked.
Royce, who was still preoccupied with his foot, looked up. “What did you want me to do
with it? Scratch behind the little monster’s ears as it gnawed my toes off? What if it started barking?
That would have been a fine mess.”
“It's a good thing there was a moat right under the window.”
Royce stopped. “There was?”
― Michael J. Sullivan, The Viscount and the Witch