The Heartwood Forest of Victims

Hope you don't mind this fool. :)
--
Kadezj knew what happened to sick limbs festering with infection. They grew inactive and frail with disuse, the sickness spread, and then they were gone. Sometimes the limb, if you were lucky. Usually the self. Without a store of herbs or healer to tap into, the nomad could only rely on his instincts to help his body heal, and today his instincts told him to keep moving. Limping on the leg which had the worst of it, the hybrid wove his way deeper into the Heartwood, where he had been staying since he and Justice had arrived in this valley.

It had done well by him so far. It's close proximity to the lake allowed for him to keep his wounds clean and his thirst slaked, and its dense foliage was a blessing in the high winds of late. They howled and shook through the trees like a clarion call, and obscured the finer sounds of the forest's teeming life. But while the sounds of the wind blended things together, the scents it carried were distinct.

Death flooded Kadezj's nostrils with a rush into his chest, and he felt his body lurch with desire to taste the newly departed flesh. Turning, he put his muzzle to the air, following the fresh kill. Its killer came to him on the same wind, and he began limping in that direction. Perhaps it was time he befriended the locals - now that they had something to offer him, that was.