"We cannot." Francis does not sound as though he's trying to humour the other man, nor to talk him down; his expression is grimly serious, and he frowns, looking down at the black mass of the beast in its bloody heap. "I do not doubt that the alarm is already being raised, but..."

But he understands the stranger's concern. It is not in his nature, either, to leave things to chance, to take any less than the fullest responsibility. If it were, he would not be out here in the first place. Passing a bloodied hand across his mouth, he considers a moment, and then nods. The other man is bigger and heavier than Francis himself, but still he tries to steer him on, gently but firmly.

"There must be a constable, a watchman." He nods, as if satisfied. "You should see to your injury, and it will take only one of us to pass on the word. I will go, and fetch a doctor as well, if I can. I do not trust that thing's teeth to be unpoisoned," he adds, grimly, looking back at the fallen beast.