They had been fighting for nigh unto an hour. He was determined that his opponent would not win. If the creep did, he was going to take them all out . . . including . . .

As he dodged another punch, his thought turned to the beautiful young lady who had gone to get help. She, perhaps, was in the most danger of them all, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to her.

Suddenly his opponent was at him again, his strong arm around his neck, attempting to strangle him. He struggled, finally managing to sink his long, sharp teeth into his opponent's arm, who yelped and let go.
They were still battling it out ten minutes later. He was winning, until his opponent's sharp claws raked his shoulder.

They were both getting exhausted. Now, if he could just get the upper hand and keep it . . .

Getting an idea, he pretended to go down, then waited until his opponent was near, then sprang up, kicking him in the face. The opponent staggered back, dazed, then suddenly lashed out with his claws again, catching the other on his right arm. He yelped in pain, but would not be defeated. Quickly he whipped his long tail around, causing his opponent to trip. Battered, bruised, and bleeding, his opponent struggled to get back up, managing to dig his claws into the other's chest before collapsing to the ground.
Panting heavily, he looked down at his fallen opponent, who didn't move. He had won. The young lady, at least for the time being, was safe from this menace.

He suddenly became aware of the pain in his shoulder, arm, and chest. That beast had put up quite a fight. Slowly he sank to his knees, then fell forward in the grass.
She watched as the police carted the wicked creature off. Thank heavens he had been caught. She looked around uneasily. But where was . . .?

She started to walk through the woods, abruptly halting when she stumbled upon him, sprawled on the grass. She called his name softly. No answer.

She dropped to her knees next to him and lifted his hat off his eyes, those blue eyes she loved so much. They were closed.

"No," she trembled, shaking her head in denial. She touched his shoulder gently. When she pulled her hand back, it was red with blood. And not her blood.

"No," she repeated, gathering the lifeless weasel in her arms. "No!"

As a soft rain began to fall, she began to sob loudly.