The Heartwood he said to me child i'm afraid for your soul

the ash immediately clings to his fur like a second skin, stirred up from where his paws touch ground. he spins in a halting half-circle, tail trailing blood and a mess of whatever equally unpleasant liquid one finds inside a carcass, and considers the jutting bones for a brief moment, tongue slipping from between his parted jaws to lap wetly at his muzzle. his stomach is already full from earlier, tearing off what he wanted before he settled in to nap, but scavenger he might be he is somewhat reluctant to leave a potential meal.

especially when whatever killed it in the first place might be back. 

that thought is particularly promising. he hovers for a moment longer, ears flicking as he sniffs thoughtfully at the air, and in the end is torn from his deliberation by avis' harsh caw where she is now perched on the sharp curve of one of its exposed ribs. she rustles her feathers, staring sharply past him, and caw cocks his head and follows her gaze. and blinks.

caw is not small, for his age at least, but the wolf looking back at him dwarfs him anyways -- the largest he has seen. of course, of anyone, the least likely to be discouraged by that is caw. if anything, it is intriguing, which avis seems to realize in the way she launches forward and lands neatly on his shoulder. her claws dig through his damp fur and into the skin underneath, but unfortunately, caw has still not gained much in the way of a sense of caution.

caw perks excitedly at his question, the crimson rings of his eyes gleaming against the red-tinged ink of his muzzle as he drifts in the man's direction heedless of avis' warnings, even as they grow progressively more aggressive with proximity. "is okay!" caw informs him helpfully. "better than dirt." perhaps, for a given definition. caw much prefers the feel of blood and viscera in his fur to that of dirt -- even enjoys it, when the scent is strong enough that it works its way through his somewhat-stunted sense of smell -- though the fine ash has all but ensured he will need to wash it all from his fur.

he draws even closer, coated in blood and ash, thoroughly destroying any concept of personal boundary as he does so, chattering to himself in latin for a brief few moments before he pieces the words together. "it is yours?"