Herbalists' Cache tell me tell me tell me, come on tell me the answer

He panicked, she panicked -- they both panicked, in such very similar ways. The girl with broken, high-strung words, Tuathal, with a string of swears in much the same pattern.

"Oh shit - oh man - oh sh - " he could hardly even contain himself, and then she was crying - "oh no, oh no no no, oh shhh shh it's -- okay, it's okay, you're okay," even though this was absolutely NOT OKAY, and he danced forward on antsy paws, still avoiding the blood and looking at the shredded lady again - the scent alone made him gag again - and rather sought to close some of the gap that separated him from this girl. For her sake, absolutely, and totally not because this was way too much for him right now, and the proximity of anyone (alive, might he add) just made him feel a lot better, too.

But beyond the grisly murder, this poor kid overtook him; she sounded way young, much younger than himself, probably hadn't seen anything like this before - and hell, had he? "Shit, why were you the one... " Tuathal had seen his share of dead bodies, some fresh, some decayed, some stripped clean after years of subjection to the scavengers, those kings of the unmarked road. But he only had to take one quick look at the crumbled corpose to know this wasn't a body like he'd seen before. Only needed to see those paw prints in the snow, big enough to a wolf's, to know that one of their kind had been here. One of their kind had tracked her blood away. He turned around in a tight circle, before he refocused on the girl. "We need to get the hell away from here. We need to go."