Dragoncrest Cliffs deity of scars

Svalinn watched the dour approach of a solemn-faced she-wolf, his ears pressing forward at the sound of her flat greeting. He took no offense; he tended to greet most others in much the same way and that was without the grievous overlay of recent deaths hanging over his head.

He bent down to push the rabbit forward. This is for whoever needs it. I thought your hunters might be recovering still. The vagrant took a few steps back, allowing the sandy siren reign over the kill. It was a meager offering, but it was all he had to give and at least one wolf in Sapphique could have something on their stomach. Even this guardian looked like she could use it.