He had seen her from time to time, lingering at the edges of his vision. A shadow seemingly without a caster, the shape of a wolf but lacking the presence of one - she was quiet, even timid in her appearance, and Nen'tah was perplexed by this. They were Saatsine! It was not like them to be timid (or so he had gleaned thus far). They were hunters; bold and fearless, searching and ready to take on the next challenge.

So who was this shade that drifted among their ranks?

Nen'tah followed her unbidden, nose to the ground as he relied on his senses whenever she would slip out of view ahead. She was small for her age, he thought, and wondered if she was perhaps sickly because of it -

- when the stench of stomach acid and rancid meat hit him like a wall. She uttered an expletive he had never heard before, although he would certainly remember it, and hunched forward as spittle dribbled out from her quivering jaws. She looked to be in a particular kind of agony that he did not recognize.

Quietly he approached her, tail held inquisitively out behind him. Obsidian eyes blinked in the dappled light that filtered through the trees around them, little mirrors of Iglux̂ as his expression shifted between curiosity and consternation. The Saatsine were strong; so why did she suffer this way? He came fully into view, and remained silent as he waited for him to notice her.

Maybe it would distract her from retching.