Honeyed Pasture we will laugh in the end

Backdated about a month to directly follow this thread. @Tetsubō ♥ Crappy post. ;-; I suck at writing anymore, haha.

The woman snarled at her trackers, uttering words that Szymon completely disregarded; the beat of blood was in his ears as he tried to still his path. From this vantage point he could clearly smell her stinking wounds, and although they reeked of infection the venom must have been something she ingested. Her fur itself did not carry the slick scent of venom, whether burningly acid or sickeningly sweet, and he judged it safe to nip harshly at her heels to keep her sodden hide moving. She smelled of purulent material and excrement, and her plaintive cries of exhaustion and pain as she sought to tuck her wounded limb against her chest sickened him. Now and again the urge to circle around and check the perimeter for ambush nagged at him — on a whim, he cast a pointed glance at the war weapon. He wished to drive her away from the bay and away from Donnelaith. A deep rumble bade Tetsubo to stay with the bedraggled beast as Szymon began to make a wide, arcing circle to see what he could find. Then perhaps he would circle back and Tetsubo could check his work, so to speak — the two of them could take turns in this way, and ensure that she had not been followed.

When they were far from the coast, Tetsubo knew his work had been completed, and thus his pace lagged. He kept his wits about him for signs of the struggling woman, eager for the purfume of her blood, but at some point the pair of hunters would have to return to Skellige and it made little sense to use up all of their energy now. From time to time Szymon would depart from him, widening the radius of their search, only to return with nothing of value; and then it would be Tetsubo's turn, and he would throw himself in to the activity with more enthusiasm than necessary. He wasn't aware of his cheerful response to all of this. He knew only that there was work to be done, and that Skellige would be pleased with him. To please one's master is the entire reason for an Oni's existence — so he had been taught, so he would follow.

Taking the first sweep, Szymon moved in a conical circuit to the southeast, noting the upturned earth and pungent leavings of the herds that called the pasture home. The Blackrock Depths wolves were a seafaring pack, it was true, but perhaps the time had come to hunt with the wolves of Donnelaith in earnest — it was something that Szymon had attempted previously with little interest from the wolves of the wood. That said, he could not help but recall the feeling of solidarity his hunts with Grayday and Charon had garnered. It would be good for both packs to foster that sort of camaraderie. With a light step, Szymon investigated his swath of territory before returning to Tetsubō’s side and nipping briskly at the female’s fetid heels with a moue of mingled distaste and loathing.