Bitterroot Valley a head start in hindsight

He snorted dryly, watching as the man accepted the request and move closer. Holland made no move to become aggressive - the wolf had done nothing to warrant such a reaction from him. But he couldn't promise it wouldn't hurt where he touched. If the pain was unbearable, then all the man could do was keep hacking up stuff. 

He moved a paw, lifting his limb slowly and deliberately. His one good eye focused on the man's stomach, trying to pluck out odd bumps or swelling. It did look swollen from heaving his guts out, but otherwise he could find no bumps. A good sign. "How long have you been throwing up?" he would ask before the other asked his question.

"Yes, I killed it" Holland's voice was flat. The last life he wanted to say he'd take. But wolves had a habit of being assholes and then he became an asshole by hurting them back. "that was long ago. It is dust now" he added, applying light pressure on the center of the man's stomach with one paw. "tell me if it begins to hurt."