Blackfeather Woods my body's broken pieces

Ramsay's head lifted from his paws and his ears pricked at the sound of Tundra's howl. Damn. He'd almost been asleep. He rose quietly from his usual spot in the shadows of Wolfskull, stretched in his rigid and unnatural fashion, then walked silently out into the forest. Beneath the moonbeams, a hush rested over Blackfeather Woods, broken only by the nearly indiscernible susurrus of the leaves swaying overhead. The forest's natural darkness was turned to ink with the sun's departure, but Ramsay moved through the woods with practiced ease in spite of the limited visibility.

The stench of blood reached him just before Tundra's scent did, chasing the last vestiges of sleep from him. The dwarf found her easily enough after that, but his face was already creased with a frown as he swept toward his injured packmate. What happened? he softly asked, resisting the urge to remind her that he had explicitly told her not to engage with The Melonii. After all, he didn't know if her wounds came from one of his uncle's wolves. She could have been attacked by anyone, and he had dashed Flicker from his mind so thoroughly after her betrayal that he didn't recall her scent enough to recognize it on Tundra.