When in Doubt, We Cull

Sericea took the blade from Zagan's jaws, her paw pads gripping the smooth bone handle. She met his gaze, noticing how his eyes seemed clearer now, the manic intensity fading into something more focused and controlled. But she couldn't shake the memory of that wild, dangerous look - it lingered in her mind, both unsettling and strangely alluring.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Sericea turned her attention to the dead ewe. She carefully began cutting away the matted, bloodstained wool, her movements precise and methodical. As she worked, Sericea's thoughts wandered to the horns - curved and wickedly sharp, they would make excellent tools or even weapons with some modification.

"I wonder... the horns could be useful too," Sericea mused aloud, pausing her wool harvesting to examine one of the spiraled protrusions. "Maybe we could make something with them." Her eyes glinted with a spark of inspiration as ideas took shape in her keen mind. But of course, as he brought attention to the wound he sustained- she couldn’t help but feel drawn to the blood that seeped down his shoulder. Allowing her acidic gaze to linger for a moment, she drew closer to him. Without fully realizing what she was doing, she leaned in closer, her muzzle hovering over his injured shoulder. The coppery scent of his blood mingled with his natural musk, creating an intoxicating aroma that made her head swim.

"Let me..." Sericea murmured, her voice low and breathy- slowly pushing his muzzle out of the way with her own. Before Zagan could respond, she dragged her tongue slowly across the gash, the taste of his blood flooding her senses.

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"