Barrow Fields Something with blood.

Thick plumes of white fog erupted from the canine's maw as he wheezed out exhausted breaths, long tongue hanging from the side of his muzzle. 

The turkey's incessant flopping was finally slowing. Blood streaked the ground beneath it. The wolf swallowed, then stared for a moment longer before facing Val. 

"Lot easier when yer partner knows what to do," he said, tail wagging, though his face only offered a weak smile. 

"Should probably finish him off. No need in lettin' him suffer like that."