Totoka River you need not be hanged like a dog

crowell hacked out a wet, bile-stained laugh—more a wheeze than anything. hah—ain’t dyin’ yet, lass, he croaked, eyes slit like old wounds. got too much left t’ do.
he pushed up with a groan, ribs straining under his skin, looking more skeleton than wolf. and th’ water’s fine, fuck ye very much.
his tongue lolled out. he stared at her, teeth bared in what might’ve once been a grin. but if yer so worried, go upstream. or better yet—go drown.