{flammae - a hot, glowing body of ignited gas that is generated by something on fire.}
newt's pov:
My world was moving slow, and my entire vision was locked onto her. When she was knocked to the floor, I was ready to rush forward and into the carnage.
I didn't make it in time - a wave of pain coursed its way through my body as a large man tackled me to the ground. He was screaming and grunting; swearing at me as I folded beneath him and he collapsed on top of me, crushing my limbs into the floor.
My knife was in my pocket, and while desperately trying to reach over to grab it, the man landed his fist in the middle of my face.
The force of the impact threw me backwards, and while I prayed he did, the man didn't stop.
He landed the same cheap shot, over and over again, until I could feel the blood pour from my nose and fall down my chin.
I would call out for y/n, screaming for her to answer, and to tell me she's okay.
Eventually, I couldn't hear a thing besides the fist that would land itself on my nose, cracking the bones under my skin.
He didn't cease his fire, as the man continued to hit me in the face until my body felt numb and the only thing I could focus on was the sheer pain bursting through my features. He laughed into my pain, taking joy from the fact that my teeth were bloody, and that my nose was almost undoubtedly broken.
I thought I would die; assumed this man would take my life here and now, and that I would never get to see her again. But then he said something incredibly infuriating.
"Don't worry pal, once I'm done with you, I'm headed to that bitch next." He said, as he peered over his shoulder, looking at y/n.
I peered over too, blinking through the blood that had accumulated in my eyes. My vision was blurry, but yet I could still see y/n, on the floor, being strangled by a woman.
Instantly I knew her - it was the lady that tried to eat Lincoln.
The man laughed, probably with the intention of saying something else utterly vile, but I just didn't want to hear it.
Blood spewed from his neck and onto my face, and as I yanked out the knife, the man went limp and crashed onto the ground. I was gulping in the largest breath of air, as I looked over to y/n, just as she had raised her arms, and snapped the neck of the lady on top of her.
I yelled out to her, but she didn't answer.
I was up on my feet in an instant, stumbling around, trying to navigate my way through the crowd. I collapsed next to her quickly, "Y/n! Are you okay?" I asked her, yanking the corpse that laid on top of her onto the floor.
Y/n just simply laid there; eyes open, breathing heavily, covered in blood. She didn't meet my eyes, she didn't even appear to notice I was there.
She seemed bereft, and while completely out of it, she turned her head to look at me.
"I thought she was going to kill me." She said, as I reached my hand out to help her stand.
Y/n was fragile and potentially concussed. "We should take you to Lincoln," I said, and while I expected her to be hesitant, I didn't expect her to remove her hand from mine suddenly.
"No," She said, coughing and spluttering, "No, I need to stay here. There's still lots of survivors left."
She began to move from my grasp, slowly and painfully, as she trod along the sand, evidently injured. "Y/n- please..."
