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Fell deeds have occured this night; one of our own is slain, and it wouldn't even be polite to nibble on the corpse. (What? I'm a carrion bird, it's hard not to think about this stuff!)
The Blossom lies dead, and by her own hand has identified her killers. Werewolves! Cursed canines from the dark years. And if it is wolves we face, then ought we not to look first to the confessed canines among us?
Rune the fox; Sally Boo Joe the diminutive hound; Boro the warg; will you denounce these murderous kinsfolk of yours, or do you stand in league with them in the grim night?
(Of course it is nothing at all to go on, but the hours pass; carrion is easiest found while warm, and the same goes for murderers. A little suspicion might shake something loose.)
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