(Time skip!) Poppy entered the park, ducking under the familiar branches. Tom pranced along next to her, his hair light and happy. She turned behind a tree and froze in her tracks. 10 men stood, waiting for her. "Robin, Tom, robin!" she exclaimed as they rushed in. She kicked and punched, and they actually managed to get quite a few of them together, but when they were down to two people, she felt an arm circle her throat and she heard a sharp yelp. She felt a stab of fear go through her heart, and she gritted her teeth. She kicked backwards and the man cursed before slamming her against a nearby tree. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, and when she tried to kick again, she found herself thrown to the ground, a pain ringing through her head, and the heel of his boot on her neck.
The pressure on her neck would lighten, as the crack of someone being struck was heard. Upon looking, she would see that Francis had punched the man holding her down, knocking him out cold.
Poppy watched him for a moment with bleary eyes before the darkness took over and her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body went limp. The last man tried to attack Francis, swinging at him.
Francis glanced at her, concern washing over his face. The man managed to get a hit in while he was distracted, but he quickly took him down. Once both the men were dealt with, he knelt down beside Poppy, worry on his face.
She was unconscious, her limbs limp and her head cradled in the grass. She had a large cut on her forehead, and she looked pale.
As he reached for his phone, she drifted into consciousness. "Francis," she murmured, her hand to her head.
Her lips were dry, and she struggled to sit up. Judging by the way she was moving, she had either broken a rib or been very severely bruised. "Tom," she said. "Tom. Is he okay?"
He looked around, then turned back to her. "He's unconscious right now. I'm worried about you. I'm going to call someone."
"I'm okay," she muttered, gasping in pain as she sat up. Her hand was pressed against the cut on her forehead and she looked around for her dog.
He shook his head, lightly touching her shoulder. "Poppy, you shouldn't be sitting up. Tom is okay, I'm sure." His voice was a bit pleading. "I want you to be okay."
She tilted her chin as she always did when she was feeling stubborn. "I'm.." She inhaled sharply as she shifted and a sharp pain ran through her ribs. "I'm okay." She spotted Tom and began to move over to him awkwardly, one hand still holding her wound.
