Redhawk Caldera Spring calling

The quick kill wasn't at odds with the giddiness, though in any other context it could have been. Nice, he complimented her, grinning. Man, you're in a good mood, huh?

Killer laid down with her, idly nosing at the limp weasel. 

In Moonspear, some wolves had furs that they wore, he remarked, gazing at their quarry's soft pelt. He glanced at Amalia, eyes warm. This one would look good on you, I think. But I have no idea how they managed to get the fur off so neatly.

And he didn't want to try. Would leave bloody carnage if he did, he assumed.