The Tangle Pure intention juxtaposed

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The voice melded from the Unknown with less effort than breathing, itself. Almost more natural than any finches and crickets in the forestlands. It was only right that such a scandalous and demented baritone roamed unhindered and smooth as it had here, in this bloodiest display, today. That Wolf could have been born amongst carnage like this, and none could question it. 
Not even the Divine of Torment. 

“It’s...not the first time I’ve eaten another wolf,” he admitted after slowly pulling free the almost mignonette of the shank. But that wasn’t the answer to the question, now was it? He asked if you liked it, Priest. Not whether it was your busted cherry on fucking cannibalism. “It’s a nice piece, this one. I’m enjoying it.” Compliments to the fucking chef. 

Another swallow, and Priest could only hope he wasn’t next on this man’s menu. As much meat was left, the Sahirian could only piece together that this meal provided wasn’t eaten very much by the killer - no... they were killed just for the hell of it. “Some taste rangy, but this one’s kinda sweet. A little more savory than the average passerby. You made a good choice.” 
He hoped a bit of compliment would sate the killer’s palate. Priest didn’t even hope that this wolf was a member of the Family; otherwise Krynn might have a new bestie who enjoyed death just as much as she did.