The Choice - Bob

Sedna's eyes briefly met Víðarr's as he questioned her about the fireflies, and she gave a short nod, but her body language said they could discuss it later. She rapidly retreated a few steps as the center of their attention began vomiting up... dirt and... whole, live worms. Her stomach turned and a lip pulled back from her teeth, her opossum scurrying down from his perch on her back and snatching one that lunged closer than the others, pausing to sniff at it before hissing and throwing it away. Otis wasn't one to turn down an easy meal, and it only cemented her feeling of certainty.

This one was too far gone for saving.

"It'd be far kinder ter knock 'im out with some valerian..." and end it. Though she didn't voice the latter, she hoped it would be conveyed in her tone. If they didn't have valerian... well, she had the blade strapped to her tail. She could make it quick. Her gaze turned towards the two pack wolves with a raised brow, silently questioning if they had any, "Unless yer have somethin' stronger?"