The harsh, croaking caw as she passed a dessicated, mummified deer corpse spun the viking in place, ears pinned back against her skull. She was no stranger to the battlefield scavengers and generally their hoarse calls held no interest for her. It was the words the feathered beast spoke, words of doom and spoken in a cant that smacked of prophecy, and it made her skin crawl and raised her fur as though lighning-struck. "What did you say, carrion-eater?" she hissed in cautious demand. Her hackles continued to prickle in superstitious fear, her mercury eyes narrowed as she prowled toward the carcass, though otherwise she did not show outwardly the emotion, maintaining the strictest control despite her certainty that something supernatural was afoot.
