Honeyed Pasture like you've never felt the ground before

In the blur of travel and interactions since the details had become slightly hazy, so it took a few long seconds for them to put together anything coherent in reply. The problem, reflecting on it, was that she hadn’t had many details to offer. Not that they’d exactly pressed for them. Renard had not been particularly concerned about roving cannibals, but after their recent spars they were questioning that approach.

“Unfortunately,” Renard sighed, “I can’t tell you much. She only mentioned cannibals on the loose, and some former packmates being attacked. Possible it might have just been bad blood, I suppose.” They gestured with their muzzle back towards the mountains. “I do think I ran into one of the cannibals myself. She was much further north than this, but planning to go inland to, ah,” with some sarcasm, “reform her empire.” They shook their head. “Not sure how successful that will be, but you might want to keep an eye out. Seemed like the more…unhinged flavor of cannibal.”

If, indeed, there was any other flavor. Renard was starting to doubt this, personally.

The wolfdog acknowledged the rest of her response with a dip of the muzzle. “Interesting. I was told it was only Sagtannet in the mountains, at the very end of the range. Well, them and another pack in the vale, whose name she didn't have.” They shrugged. “I haven’t visited at all, of course.”