Your name is Equius Zahhak. And you are currently being strangled. By a bow no less. The very thing you could never master. The pain in your knee subsides as you lose air. Your eyes drift over and you see a vent in the wall. It is similar to the one you told Nepeta to hide in. Wait. There is something in the vent. Someone. Oh, fiddlesticks, you think, excusing yourself for your vulgarity. Of course she followed you! She's probably scared to death seeing the highblood choking you with one of your own bows. You force a smile as everything begins to turn black and the highblood drops you down to the floor.
You hear a clang as the vent cover flies off. You're not dead yet, but the highblood drags you over as he inspects the noise. Or, rather, who caused the noise. Nepeta yells though you can't see what she's doing—you're facing the wrong way. When you finally work yourself around you see the highblood holding her wrist, scraping her claws across his own face with a dull-eyed grin. Nepeta's eyes are wide as she watches him, too shocked to strike with the other hand at the larger troll. Suddenly you hear a crack that fills the room and Nepeta falls to the floor, crying out and holding her arm to her chest. Her wrist is broken.
You can't stand to see your moirail in pain. You try to stand and move towards her, but the highblood pulls you back down as he walks away. You look up to see he's retrieved something—a club like the ones he used to juggle. Oh no. No no no no no no. No! You try to break the line around your neck but it's no use. The highblood throws you down to the floor. Try as you might, you cannot pick yourself back up. He keeps a firm grip on the bow with one hand and raises the club with the other. He looks at you, his eyes bright and shining over a broad, sharp-toothed grin. With a shout, he brings the club down and you hear another crack, mingling with the cries of your moirail.
No. This can't be happening. You always keep her safe. Now you can't even speak up enough to command him to stop. Your vision fades as he raises the club again and again, each crack more sickening than the last and soon that's all you can hear. Nepeta doesn't seem to be moving anymore. You have failed. And now you are going to die.
The highblood throws his club aside and you feel him let go of the bow, but you can't get up. You hear shuffling and feel him grab your throat, lifting you up slightly to his face as he kneels. You try to open your eyes and see him wearing—oh god—he's wearing her hat. And your glasses. He smiles at you, gripping your throat harder. He reaches over with his other hand but you can't see what he's doing. The hand comes back into your line of sight and you see it's covered in green. He writes something on your shirt and forces your head down to look at it. Even upside-down the word is unmistakable.
"HONK."
"Honk," he repeats quietly before smashing your head into the floor. You black out and he leaves you there, slowly bleeding to death, what's left of your moirail lying in a heap next to you.