Bearclaw Valley Your Special Spot in Hell Awaits You

The dark man did not notice the raven at first, for his eyes were too keen on watching the passage of clouds above his head. Maybe it would rain soon, wash the scent of blood from the grasses he lay on. Wash the dirty from his bones and his head - of course, the rain would do no such thing. Skoll was already dirtied beyond rescue. He already became the thing that many would hate. 

The quiet sniffling reached his ears, now alert. Skoll turned to notice the woman sniffing at him. Was it from worry? From the wound his body had attained? It wasn't too bad - not having his tail he mused. Of course, there was still a nub leftover, healing. It would take time to heal. Time Skoll didn't want to take but would be forced to anyway. He didn't know what to say, to the woman. She never spoke which made it exceptionally hard for Skoll to read her despite everything. That might have been why the two hardly ever interacted. His tail did hurt more than the wounds on his face, even the one on his nose that Nyra had dealt. When he breathed it stung, but not as bad as his tail did when he moved, or when anything touched it. 

He simply watched Astara, for the moment. To see what she was doing - to see if he could figure out what to say.