Sleeping Dragon there is only one god and his name is death

It's labeled "AW" but I can delete this if it's too disruptive. On that note, please feel free to attack, of course. ;)

She drank greedily, making obscene noises as she slurped mouthful after mouthful of cool water. With her thirst finally slaked, Drag raised her head and squinted at her moonlit surroundings. She had spend a day wandering about the small mountain range, glutting on the catalogs of flora and fauna the landscape offered her, and she had even made a small kill (a pudgy Tamias ruficaudus). But all the wandering had not scratched the itch in her paws; if anything, it had only gotten worse, taken root more deeply.

Thinking nothing of it, the bony black she-wolf began to wander along the riverbed, locating some shallows. Mindless of the scent markers that would have stopped a smarter wolf, Drag crossed the waterway and moved into the shadow of a squat, craggy mountain that resembled a great slumbering beast. A strange odor lingered in the air, causing Dragyn to stop short, lift her muzzle and inhale deeply. Still ignoring the unmistakable scents of wolves, she squinted into the night, wondering why it smelled like burning.