He had given great musing to those who would follow after him, and a single choice stood out in his mind. On Jinx's trail once more, nares flaring at the poisoned scent she left in her wake, Lecter's thoughts churned chaotically, his stresses increased and somehow blunted by the toxic mixture he consumed each night.

A low woof went out to Sitri as he spotted the male; the ragged shaman lengthened his steps to sidle along the red-eyed Gamma, appreciating not for the first time the other's ferocity. "Ouroboros remains strong due to the loyalty of those who live here," he muttered softly. "This will not break us."

Sitri somehow took him aback with the level of logic and acceptance shown in his words; Lecter had never found the wicked beast to be stupid, but certainly unrefined. Life among them had honed the man's tongue, however, and in response the Beta gave him a small, grim smile. "It is a tempting idea." He saw no reason to tell Sitri of his slow self-poisoning, or the nights spent in apnea due to the fatal mixture, though he valued the other's loyalty.

It was upon the tip of his tongue to turn the other away, however, yet he bit back the words and nodded silently at the brute. Turning his gaze toward the wood, he lifted his muzzle into the airy currents, scenting for Jinx.

A muscle jumped in his cheek, and he proffered a twisted parody of a smile to the brute, but said nothing for the present. Words evaded him, but Sitri's presence was a small comfort to the madman, and he hoped silently that the red-eyed male would remain close despite the seeming coldness of his pale Beta.

Muzzle fell to the earth and he began searching for the trail of her scent, stumbling once through blurred eyes and equilibrium affected by his nightly poisons.

He moved in silence, dreading what he would find in Jinx's form. Each time he beheld her, she was less a wolf than the last time, more a shambling, unknown beast, with wet lips and rolling eyes. Again, the concept of placing his love out of her misery occurred to him, but the shaman thrust it aside with a low growl; he could not bring himself to do such a thing.

"What will you do when she is gone? when I am gone?" he asked of Sitri suddenly, voice abrupt and harsh in the still of the wood.

He did not understand the omen behind Sitri's voice, nor did he appreciate the sentiment that Jinx having accepted the brute into her ranks had ultimately caused her death. Yet, there was the lingering fact that the shaman was not in his full mind, and therefore he attributed what he had heard to the delirium of his poisons.

Eventually, icewater gaze came to rest upon Jinx's staggering figure. "You may go," Lecter muttered softly to Sitri, lowering suddenly weary haunches to the ground. He was a sentinel, a guardian of her fading life — nothing more, nothing less.