Honeyed Pasture like you've never felt the ground before

“You have an edge on me, then,” Renard admitted, settling back down on their haunches. The beaver had stopped bleed sluggishly onto the bank by now – it wasn’t going anywhere, they could wait for their meal. “It’s been…” they huffed a bit of a laugh, “maybe a week?”

Though a lot had happened in a week.

“Well, this far...I’ve been told,” Renard started, “about what’s possibly a few cannibals on the loose, and probably met one of them," they snorted, "two wolves attacking anyone who passes by, and of one pack. Sagtannet?” The name still felt unfamiliar on their tongue. The loop they were walking was, in fact, meant to take them down there eventually. But it seemed like a good idea to learn a bit of the others in the area first. Not to mention the land. They might have known it like the back of their hand at home; this was all still alien, beyond the range they kept in their sight to follow. “They did give me directions for that. Not much about other packs, though. I wondered if you might know more.”