Dawnlark Plains [m] haruspex

The dull woman had observed no pattern, though had not missed the strange assortment of things within the meat. It meant nothing to her, as it did not smell of poison that she could detect with her keen sense of smell. The entrails she had hoped to devour, and she salivated as she noted then the liver that was in the mouth of the man. A string of drool oozed, and she licked that away too.

The man had sensed the other. Tikigâk did not know if they were pack, and only when his gaze shifted did Tikigâks to behold the man. A warrior, by the look of him, with only one eye to appraise her visually in turn. The wind picked up, and she could not hear them—but from where she trotted, she could pick up their scent. 

Tikigâk had not stopped. She would soon move from this territory to the next, but before she was gone her gaze turned back to the first bloody man, nostrils flaring to take them both in from where she ranged.