Ravensblood Forest making splinters

There was no mistaking a glimmer of mischief in Jaws' steeled eyes, one which instantly drew a sliver of mistrust from the stalwart dog. He didn't need mischief -- not today -- and even if he had not been so grievously wounded his tolerance for trouble was remarkably thin. So far, the wild and its savage inhabitants had given him no reason to trust them -- he, an alien in his own right, felt himself the last of his kind in a bleak and inhospitable world.

The playbow was dismissed with a low growl. He struggled to rise, favoring heavily his swollen limb. He canted it before him, the flesh ripe and skin sloughing -- with a wide swing of his stifle he hobbled forwards in the direction of the beach. "Not in the mood." He offered in a clipped reply, keeping the dark not-quite-wolf-thing in the corner of his eyes as he limped ahead.