Emberwood a partial list of things currently inside you: blood, skull, ghost

"Don't know," he replied with a shrug of his muscled shoulders. "Saw ravens overhead. Thought you could be an easy meal." The black wolf paused and licked his lips, tasting a bit of the hare's blood as he wondered if she possessed any memories behind that disorienting fog of pain. He was no one she knew but he had no qualms with answering that question either. "Name's Jagwyr."

The coyotes howled again. They were making ground. "Come," he instructed, dropping his skull to gather the hare between his teeth. Jagwyr turned toward the tail of the creek, where it thinned and bled into a wetland; an ear cocked back to listen for her. He did not hurry, but he did not adjust his pace to accommodate either. It was simply relaxed, routine.