Sun Mote Copse One breath, it'll just break it

"I did not see anyone - I found him like this a moment ago," Wraen explained right after Colt had pointed out the person, who had assaulted him. It was hard to believe that a mere yearling could be so vicious to inflict souch wounds on such an old and weathered ram as Colt. It did not occur her for a second that the fight had been about life and death matters and she could not fathom a reason for it either.

"Clean wounds," Wraen managed to swallow the question mark at the end of her sentence, as well as the nausea the smell of blood, torn flesh, wet hair and saliva instilled in her. Given a chance she would not touch Colt even if she had a 5 meter long stick to poke him with. "I don't think I can touch him, my stomach's acting funny," she told them apologetically, looking green in the face (or a wolf equivalent of being pale and about to vomit). "Should I go to Frosthawks and fetch Raven?" she asked almost hopefully. That would be more useful and would give her a good reason to put some distance between her and the wounded man. The last thing he needed was being coated in dead mice, feathers and some suspicious stuff she had eaten.