Firefly Glen Show me the miles and your arms and the pink scar

*cracks open this book*

Yao was not in Neverwinter that night, for once in the month or so since he had joined the pack's ranks. Something about the blossoming of spring and then summer in the land made his paws itch and made him eager to move, wandering far beyond the confines of the forest that he called home. But not too far.

The noises of the night here were not so different from his homeland. He smiled slightly as he heard the familiar mkoromo of frogs and the sky lighting up with living stars — kimulimuli. 

He was not alone in the night. He could smell blood in the air. Yao stood his ground. He was much closer to the woman than he expected. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising as she came into view: the sight of the blood-spattered woman in the moon's light tugged at his enculturated instincts. Mchawi, he thought.