Herbalists' Cache i've got a taste for blood

His grin turns to a twisted smirk. Swift as Ghost may be, he isn’t up to par with others Firestorm has faced yet. Alas, it is all just learning drill, and soon Ghost may even outsmart him. He keeps his hold, until the silver coywolf goes limp in his grasp. Don’t give up, he encourages, a mouthful of fur however does little to make him very understandable. Storm gives him a nudge with his leg.