Swiftcurrent Creek dissect me with this blunt little tool

The girl submitted with a shaking form beneath him, and Lecter flung the length of his thin legs over her, pinning her to the earth of the clearing. Snaking his muzzle close to her shoulder, Lecter began to pluck her dark fur, spitting it onto the loam, a warning growl emanating from his muzzle lest she try to rise and flee.

"Tell me of yourself," the shaman invited between his lashings of pain to her. He would not take a great amount of fur, just enough for his rites; it was her blood for which he lusted most, and eventually he would cause that to well upon his tongue as well.