Bearclaw Valley tamerlane

The smell of blood was in the priest's nostrils and it fueled the maddening depths of the spirit world to which she had descended. All she had to do was follow the trail of blood, follow the trail of Sithis' maddening hisses as it lead her towards where the wolves were gathered. She did not know it was a hunt — had not heard a call — but when she arrived and saw their prey gallop off, she knew what was to happen. Of course. A feast, a slaughter.

She glanced at a tall, fierce woman with the inquiring gaze briefly and whispered, with a mad smile on her face, Just follow your gut. Do what feels right, that was always what hunts were about. And at the end, ah, at the end, they would be rewarded by bathing in the sickening roar of death and the fiery blood that would be upon their pelts!

With that in mind the priest did not await the signal from Thief's red child; instead, she set off after their prey, with or without the others.