Bramblepoint medusa and hemlock

Taltos seemed nearly as bothered as Peregrine himself felt. "Agreed," he replied simply. Wildfire had made it sound like a mutual parting and he believed her when she said she would be all right. "I met him once," he added after a pause. "He seemed like a good kid. But they were—are—both so young." And maybe Wildfire took after her old man in the romance department: leaping before looking and all that. It made him think of Hawkeye, though that float drifted away on a mote of April sunlight.

His eyes followed Lasher's movements, even if only one of them worked properly. The smell of coagulating blood made his nostrils flare. When the pig was set within reach, he arched his neck and nibbled at the nearest pound of flesh, then straightened up and glanced at his companion as he settled beside him once again with another dreamy remark.

"Me neither, I guess," Peregrine said anticlimactically, tearing off a strip of skin which he then pressed sloppily against Lasher's cheek.