Duck Lake You realize that tinned food is just for crackheads and wars?

A ghastly figure appeared, gaunt and drooling. Pygmalion stared at her in some concern when he realized this was no wraith, but a living, breathing wolf—just barely. He blinked, taking a step back in instinct. Still, he couldn't in good conscience just let her go by without inquiring after her health.

Are ye all right? Pyg asked, eyes wide. Obviously she was not, but it was a good place to start. D'ye need help? Bringing her to Uaine Gorsedd was a bad idea; he wondered if she had a home elsewhere that he could lead her to. Her own could take care of her.