Swiftcurrent Creek no, no, you ate yours

Thanks for waiting for me! I suck haha

Between the grim, callous smirk and the shallow drawl in his tone, the sea specter proved to be a fascinating man. His vocation of choice seemed well-suited to his scant appearance; a learned doctor by any descriptive verbiage. The white coat, a scrutinizing gaze, plus a wise mind... all in his cold-handed possession. Lecter was a name certain to commit itself to the fireblood's mind, though the title which he gave proved to be of a darker tone. She knew the word shaman well enough, as well as its good-natured connotation: a healer who acted as a mystic or spiritual leader in whatever culture they prayed fealty to. But witch? Such an art alluded to more sinister crafts.

Tuwawi's lids squinted skeptically, and it took all her power not to scoff at the idea that she had been delivered to this wolf by some otherworldly force. She was a secular creature, and not one who facilitated any sort of divine worship. "Perhaps by the smell," she responded passively in reference to the dank odor which masked the shearweater man and his glen. The idea of being manipulated by invisible strings did not sit well with the woman; though even now the dark leather of her nose reached out to make contact with his muzzle, as if to affirm his place amongst them in passing. "Mm, but a witch you say?" she asked quizzically, having no knowledge herself in any spectrum of healing, "what does that make your specialty?"