Swiftcurrent Creek Everything's turned from gold. . .into SHIT

He thought the nearby woman was Ibis at first and shuddered upon seeing the Archdruid, heart filling with fear. But then. . .hadn't she always been kind? Wouldn't she show mercy now?

So he made the decision. He began to pad her way, his step grotesque and limping, eyes glowing with fever.

Ibis, Pyg croaked, but it wasn't Ibis at all—so he discovered upon coming closer. No, this was a stranger, and his hackles immediately rose, pelt bristling. If she was not a friend, she was an enemy; he would treat her as such. He bared his teeth, saliva pooling over, spilling out.

He postured, waiting for the woman to make her next move. He'd killed once. . .he could do it again, should she show him any aggression—or scorn.