Nate was pretty sure the only thing Ko-Ga wanted was to lead him to something to eat. Still learning to use a wolf's nose, he'd at least worked out the basics of turning it windward to gauge direction. And it was still a sensory overload, but blood had a kind of tint to it. The closer they got, the brighter it bloomed on the whipping crosshatch of invisible currents.

And Nate wasn't hungry.

But he was also getting tired of being bombarded by his pet-turned-self-appointed-nanny. So he followed, head low to avoid the pinching beak of Ko-Ga's impatience.

Gr-aaack!, in the distance.

Nate stopped short, ears swiveling forward. That wasn't his bird.

Ko-Ga cawed answer from on the wing.

Gra-a-ck!, weaker.

Blood and a raven. Sounded kind of ominous, but Nate realized now it probably wasn't dinner Ko-Ga wanted at all. It was help.

Well you could have said something sooner!, he called, and got back what he assumed to be corvid-profanity as they set off at pace for the sound again.