Lake Rodney But the blood in your heart never dries

Charon was growing weary of this conversation, because it seemed that all they ever did was ask their own questions without answering the other's. He had answered hers, but what he got was only more questions — no confirmation of his death. The missing leg seemed to push things in that direction, except why wouldn't she just tell him if he were dead?

Flóki arrived and Charon greeted him wordlessly with no more than a quick glance in his direction, as distracted as the female, as he turned back towards her. "Yes, that's him," Charon said as per her description, although he didn't have a clue if half of those were true — he'd never looked Lazarus over that good, never having thought it necessary. But he was determined that the wolf she spoke of was the one he was looking so, perhaps in part because he willed it to be so. "He attacked my mate — his Alpha female — and hurt her," he repeated impatiently. "Is he dead? Did... Whoever took his leg kill him?" He didn't realise yet that the leg was taken as a chirurgical act, thinking it was someone who had assaulted Lazarus for whatever reason (his cocky face, likely).