Bramblepoint Choke the chicken

lasher had not forgotten the things that had been said, but he did not think of them now -- his swampwater eyes watched peregrine carefully as the other drew in shaking breaths, restoring the breath that had been lost. masticated flesh had spewed to the ground, along with an offending shard of bone -- the druid sniffed at them, checking to see that it had not lacerated peregrine's throat upon its forced trajectory outward.

the realization of what he had done, and before whom he stood, struck the man -- he straightened, backing away some feet, out of range of the caldera wolf's teeth. yet his gaze remained gentle, trained again upon the face of the man he still loved, if he was being honest within his innermost soul.

"glutton," he murmured, but it was a word tinged not in mockery, but relief.