Bone.
Blood.Yes, these were the clutches of the web he would spin for his Totem's decree. He had spent the night in the glen, falling into the fitful, fevered sleep of the damned as the opiates burned out of his body. And when he had awoken, he had bathed, soaking himself in the rush of a river until all the blackened flakes of dried blood had loosened from his coat and been swept away by the current. He had bathed until all but the faintest red hue remained to his coat; he had bathed until he had washed away all vestiges of the narcotic-reeking sweat and the remembrance of Her touch.
Lecter emerged from the waters bare in his wet pelt, which showed the colours of his birth plainly — the blending of beige and white were a rare sight for any who would look upon him. Lip curling at the sensation of nudity that pervaded his being, the shaman lengthened his stride into a lope that carried him between the guardian trees of Bon Dye land and away from prying eyes.