Otter Creek Don't really care what they would say, I'm asking you to stay

A wolf called to him from above; Panacea, unused to an audience, tucked his tail a little as he turned to squint up at the stranger. A pale wolf, scarred. He could see that much from here. It took a few seconds longer to process what the man had said — and then Panacea sighed through his nose, long and weary.

I didn't lose 'em. I'm just the unlucky bastard assigned to search and rescue, He called back, ears half-folded. Panacea was too filled with self-loathing to rise to the bait. Anyway, you're wrong. More like a two outta ten. I'm about to call it quits.