Silverlight Terrace Then when I'm thirsty, I drink their blood.

“Atlantis,” he corrects and bobs his nose in her direction, expecting a similar introduction. If they’re going to work together, they may as well make the exchange. The better they are personified, the less they’ll want to hurt each other especially since she’s opened up this far without turning on him. She takes the deal, too, and he offers a smile, another step, but still keeps his distance. He scents the air eagerly for the stench of infection is getting wrong the closer he gets. “Deer,” he adds with a shrug. Or something along the lines, if they can’t find anything like that nearby. All he wants is a full stomach reminisce of the days he lived at home.
 
A beat later, he turns and as an act of good faith, offers to make the first move. With a gesture to signal his return, he leaves the cougar behind. If she disappears while he’s gone, he’s scarcely done much but expend a little energy but something he should be able to trade off with another.
 
Some amount of time later, he returns with a few strips of alder bark between his teeth. With the feline much larger than a wolf and unsure how much she needs to take to feel the effects, he brings as much as he thinks is appropriate and sets it down in front of her.
 
“For pain that won’t make you sleepy. It’ll bring the swelling down,” he instructions, searching her face for a moment. “We hunt and then I treat the infection.”