Wheeling Gull Isle The beach is too dry, where is the rum?

The two who were called came promptly, and he did not beat around the bush. "This one wanted to join us. Said she would die for me. So she did, haw!" The Captain guffawed, grinding his paw into the severed head and driving his claws into the blood-soaked flesh. "See to it that her corpse is put somewhere safe where the crows can pick her bones. Then, when they be ready, let each crewwolf take their share." He eyed them momentarily before adding, "or eat her yerself, I do not care. Just make sure the galley is stocked."

He hoisted the head by an ear, and with a flick of his tail he took his leave, expecting orders to be carried out. His head, and the skull within, would rot and be picked at in the safety of his quarters.