I'm allied to the winter

[singmod]

JULY 2025 EVENT

PROMPT ONE: BURIED ECHOES: The green fog from fissures that had begun to appear last month takes on a new form of attack, and Interlopers find themselves forced to share their greatest betrayals and deepest shames.

PROMPT TWO: ADURERE: The Interlopers are not the only ones caught in the current machinations, and return to Milton House once more.

PROMPT THREE — TERRITORY: Interlopers who venture out to the Last Resort Cannery come face to face with the Timberwolf packs who have claimed the place as their own — high risk, high reward.

BURIED ECHOES

WHEN: The Month of July
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: atmospheric changes; mild mental manipulation; memory sharing.

In June, a green fog began to curl upwards from fissures dotted around the Northern Territories — warping Interlopers into frenzies of rage or fear. These afflictions have ended up easing as the month turns over into July but the vapours themselves don’t dissipate. At first, they begin the mingle in the air, like a drop of ink in water — causing a green hue to taint the atmosphere. When one looks around, it's almost like the faint sepia tone that obscures the lens of daylight at sunset some days. The skies feel darker, the days are dull, and green.

There’s a distinct tingle of fear in the air. Something low rumbling — a constant drone in the background.

The reach of these green vapours extend even further as the month goes on. The fogs will grow thicker in places and at times will extend to filling huge spaces of areas quickly and silently. You could be out in the wilds, travelling alone the tracks in Lakeside, or making your way down the Coastal Highway when the fog drifts in.

It doesn’t take long before it encompasses you entirely.

With it, the skies darken further. The world turns to night, lit by the eerie green, and everything feels empty and fraught. For plenty of Interlopers, this is a familiar experience, and a sensation of fear washes over you. Or most of you.

You hear whispers in the fog: a chorus of frightened voices chittering nervously. And then out of that chorus comes a voice that is old and terrible.

She binds me, but she cannot banish me. I am coming for you, Interloper. You cannot be rid of me. The Darkwalker, you realise. It is reaching out to you within the fog.

The Yawning Grave has been opened, and I am so very hungry. One way, or another — I am coming for you. I will break you, consume you. You will go into the Dark.

The Darkwalker has its ways of coming for Interlopers, that is well known by now. The fog shifts and swirls around you. As you watch it, familiar shapes begin to form — a room, a place. Somewhere familiar to you, but it doesn’t fill you with comfort. You remember this place, and you find yourself within a moment of your history. It is not a fond moment.

The memory that forms around you and begins to play out is a memory of your greatest betrayal, your deepest regret. The thing that brings you the most shame. You and your companion will witness this — and there's no escaping this.

The Darkwalker has ways of coming for Interlopers, yes. It has ways of trying to break you down. Your deepest fears and insecurities, showing you for what you truly are; isolating you from the world around you, finding ways to lead you into the Dark. You are the Interloper, after all. You are not part of nature’s design. One way or another, it will break you down and put an end to you. To pull you apart. Now it seeks to show who you truly are to others — a moment where you find yourself at your worst.

Bonds between Interlopers are strong, but are all secrets revealed to the ones you’ve come to know and trust? Do you still have skeletons in your closet? A moment you have tried so desperately to keep buried and hidden from those around you?

No more. The question is whether the people you’ve come to know and trust will be able to look at you the same way again.

ADURERE

WHEN: Late July.
WHERE: Milton House… ?
CONTENT WARNINGS: fire; house fire; death of a child/children; hauntings; illusions of burning/being burned; potential injuries via falling/unstable building collapsing; dead bodies; gore/blood/maimed bodies; body horror; eye-related trauma/horror.

You wake up in a bed that is not yours. The air is still and cold, and for a moment everything is calm. It is night time. You are not the only one who wakes up with you, another Interloper has found themselves sharing the bed with you — maybe it’s someone you know, maybe it’s an Interloper you’ve yet to meet. But you’re in a strange home you don’t recognise, and you’re not sure what’s happened.

You have a little time to get your bearings, at least — to explore the room itself. The furniture is a little more refined from what you’ve come to know in Milton: well-made and old. The master bedroom is that of a husband and wife. There are family photos on one of the dressers: a wedding photo of a happy bride and groom in the late 1970s or early 1980s; a photo of two small boys stood in Milton Basin, holding up freshly-caught fish; a photo of a sad young girl on a tree swing.

Interlopers who have been in the Northern Territories for some time will come to realise that the family in these photos is the Barker family. The young girl is Enola. You have found yourselves within Milton House, before the fire.

If you had turned on a light to explore, power goes out. There is smoke in the air.

You hear the crackle of flames from beyond the bedroom door. Opening it into the corridor will reveal a fiery inferno, and the distant screams of children.

But there’s something different about this place, just as there has been last time. Even with the blaze, the home does not look at is should. While it looks like the burning, ruined insides of Milton House, it feels more like a maze than anything. The walls warp around you and at sudden moments, tree branches will break and jut out from the walls, burning and snapping and falling before you.

Together, you must work to escape the burning home. Getting out of this place will be far more difficult than those who found themselves in this place well over a year ago. Turning down the corridor in search of the stairs brings only more corridors, opening doors to bedrooms in search of a window will bring you to more corridors, too.

Persist, and you’ll find the stairs eventually. And like last time, the heat and smoke feel real and may even cause you pain but the flames won’t actually burn you. Whatever this is, as real as it feels, there’s some kind of illusion to all of this just as it had done before.

But what didn’t happen before is the sight that greets you as you finally head downstairs.

In the ruined mess of the blazing inferno that is the living room, bodies litter the floor. They pile on top of one another, covering every inch of floor, slumped against the walls. There must be some seventy or more bodies here. Some are harder to look at than others: some are coated in blood and wounds, some caused by animals, some by humans; some lie in crumpled, contorted messes; some are half-frozen; some are barely recognisable.

Looking at these bodies, as difficult as it may be, will bring the awful realisation: these are the bodies of Interlopers who have died within the Northern Territories. Some you recognise, people you knew only too well. Interlopers who have died at the hands of the Darkwalker, of Mother Nature itself, of other Interlopers; each of them appearing just as they had died in this place.

What’s more: scattered in amongst these bodies are the bodies of the Barker family: Thomas and his sons — half-charred and blackened by the smoke and flame.

In amongst this carnage, there’s a figure kneeling on the floor. A woman, dressed in furs, her hands covering her face. Some may recognise her as Enola, and you realise: this is Enola’s deepest regret. What brings her the most shame, her greatest betrayal.

Interlopers may choose to leave, if they wish. Making a break for a window or a door will bring them out into the snow and the world will snap to normal — you find yourselves outside Milton House, green fog swirling around you and fading with a low echo of laughter: the Darkwalker.

But others may choose to go to Enola, to try and help her, to try and end this memory of hers.

Enola feels real when you touch her. Managing to pull her hands away, you’ll realise something is very wrong. Even more wrong than all of this. Those who have seen her before in dreams, or when she appeared to Interlopers in June last year will note that she appears very different. Enola looks gaunt, exhausted — and more frightening: her left side of her face is black and withered, her eye absent from the socket.

It’s hard to say what’s happened to her, but Interlopers may draw their own conclusions and suspicions.

“It’s my fault.” she’ll whisper. “It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault. I caused it.”

Enola seems almost catatonic, and cannot seem to engage with Interlopers at first. She will rock slightly as she kneels, her one blue eye staring into nothing, her expression wounded.

“It’s my fault, it’s my fault— I couldn’t.. I couldn’t make it stop.” she continued. “I didn’t mean it, I— I tried, I tried so hard to stop it— I never meant for it, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The house groans and shudders around you. Enola will look up, tears streaming down her face.

“I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t mean it.”

Speaking to Enola softly, offering words of encouragement or comfort will slowly begin to calm her down. It will take some time to calm her in this terrible place, but she will respond to it. She seems almost child-like: cowed and broken and small. She looks so tired.

“They were meant to be home.” she tells you. “And I ruined it.”

When Interlopers have calmed her down enough, she’ll finally look at you, like she finally sees you again. For the first time in this moment, she sees you in a way that’s hard to put into words. She reaches for your face, your chest, touches you gently — her expression is so sad, quietly crushed by the care from you.

“I’m sorry.”

In a blink, everything snaps to normal. No bodies, no flames. No Enola. Just the rotted insides of a broken, ruined home — curls of green smoke drifting upwards, out through the cracks of the walls.

TERRITORY

WHEN: The Month of July.
WHERE: Last Resort Cannery, The Coast.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; gore; human remains; (wild) animal attacks, altered wildlife, possible character injury/death, possible (wild) animal injury/death.

Moving towards the south east from the village of Silverpoint will bring Interlopers along the cracked and crumbling road that loads to Last Resort Cannery: a complex of several warehouses and workshops, and has long since fallen into disrepair. Most of its staff were employed by the village of Silverpoint, and with some even coming from Milton to work — but economic decline has seen the company fall into hard times.

Murmurings from around the village will have Interlopers discovering that there may be some leftover stock that is still usable, such as canned goods, but the villagers have found it incredibly difficult to scavenge there, due to the increase in hostile wildlife. Many villagers that have attempted to travel there have never returned, and those who have, have returned maimed, injured, often dying due to their injuries — and Silverpoint residents have often persuaded Interlopers not to go there.

Interlopers, however, are made of sturdier stuff these days, and maybe it’s worth checking the place out in hopes of finding some useful loot.

The Cannery itself sits right along the coastline, and incredibly bitter and open — much like most of the Coast’s area. As Interlopers head closer, they will soon discover exactly what the villagers spoke of: the frozen, grisly and often skeletal remains of those who have tried to venture forth scattered around the area, torn backpacks and clothing — as if the bodies have been consumed by animals.

Not even Jace has been out here to scavenge, either out of safety, or respect for the dead.

Most of the buildings are open to the elements, having been hit hard by the extreme weather — and provide little in the way of shelter. But not all of them are so open. There are some buildings that will provide ample shelter: warehouses and factory floors, even some small staff breakroom quarters. There are even spaces where it appears that some of the workers even lived on site, with bunk beds and shower facilities.

There will, indeed, be crates filled with canned goods that remain in relatively good condition: mostly canned sardines, tuna and salmon. Interlopers may find seafood soups, too. But there’s an overall theme: the Cannery is a processing place of fish and seafood, after all. However, that is not everything that is housed within the Cannery’s site. Explorers will be able to find heavy but durable work clothes and boots, along with survival tools and equipment that belonged to workers. There are workshops that could be used during the Aurora — which can be used to repair tools and… interestingly: craft ammunition.

A spray painted wall reads: THEY HATE THE LIGHT. Another reads: LOUD NOISES = GOOD FOR SCARES. Another, more ominously: THIS PLACE WANTS US ALL DEAD.

Why would such a plan require a workshop in order to craft ammunition? It might have something to do with the culprits behind the grisly finds Interlopers have come across in their approach to the Cannery itself: the packs of Timberwolves that have made their home here and often prowl the area. And soon enough, they will come running.

A lone howl on the wind, carried on the air. More joining the first. Then, the demonic chittering and growling as one of the packs descend upon the Interlopers. Fortunately, these timberwolves are not quite like the wolves faced by Interlopers right at the very start of their time in the Northern Territories — but they are still altered in terms of the Aurora: smarter, and far more aggressive that wolves have ever been known to be.

They do function in a similar manner, at least. Pack morale is important, and breaking that morale can send them back. If they’re broken, their morale is depleted. Fire is your biggest friend: torches, campfires and flares will keep them mostly at bay and only the bravest of these packs may attack. Striking them with flares or flames will actually send them into brief retreats. Bullets and arrows are effective with both noise and injuring the wolves, and although hitting one will be difficult due their speed, it’s possible. Killing one of these wolves will dissolve the pack’s morale entirely, and the rest will flee.

And at least then, for a while, you might be able to scavenge in peace — and make it out alive.

FAQs

BURIED ECHOES


1. The memories cannot be interacted with in any way.

2. Interlopers with Darkwalker’s Revenge will feel slightly revitalised in general during the month of July and be extra revitalised during these heavy fog instances. They will feel fit, hale and alert — probably the best they’ve ever felt in a long time due to the polar sun.

3. Memories can be from a character's future in their canon, not just their past.


ADURERE

1. All Interlopers who have died in game can be found within this prompt. This will also confirm the deaths of Interlopers who have been missing but never confirmed dead and also confirm Interlopers who have simply gone home. You can check out the Interloper Masterlist for further details.

2. Interacting with Enola is optional. Interlopers may choose to simply escape house and the memory.

3. Interlopers have limited interaction with the memory. They can look at things, or even touch the dead down in the living room, but not remove anything from the house.

4. Characters will not be physically burned in the fire, but only feel as if they have been. The effects of this illusion will last a short time after they're out the house before they will fade.

5. The only real injuries characters can sustain will be from fall damage, or if the floor gives way and their feet go through, etc. whilst in the house.

6. Please see the January 2024 Event Prompt ‘Adust’, or the Areas Page, or the October 2024 Mini Event under the February 1994 for further information/context.

7. Interlopers who are in Milton will find themselves in Milton House when the memory/illusion ends. Interlopers in other areas of the world will find themselves in a random, rundown/dilapitated home found in that area.

TERRITORY

1. You do not have to kill a Timberwolf to scare off the pack, simply defeating the pack's morale with noise and flame is sufficient to scare them off for several hours.

2. Timberwolf packs typically range from three to seven wolves.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

territory

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey doesn't have a gun. What he has is his knife as well as a pack slung across his back. Noticeably, Hickey's wearing kind of shitty clothes: they're not his best, already torn and stained in some ways. It looks like he expects the clothes to get even more beat up during this excursion.

Or, clothes that he expects to get ruined when he wolfs out and ends up tearing them. Either/or.

"You put up that notice?" Hickey calls out, as he walks over towards Tim. "Been interested in that cannery for months now. It's high time we figure out what's in there."

[comfortablyerect]

Tim clocks Hickey as soon as he's in eyesight, already sizing him up. A habit so deeply ingrained that it's really just second nature. That part of him that needs to assess every situation and suss out danger even where there shouldn't be any. Yes, he's the one who put up the notice, but that isn't stopping him from being a little on guard with new company.

He nods, shouldering the pack he'd been double checking.

"Couldn't agree more." He offers a hand to shake. "Tim Gutterson."

[friendsfordinner]

"Cornelius Hickey," he says, as he takes Tim's hand and gives it a hard shake. He's also sizing Tim up. Seems capable, seems good, probably won't have to worry about him and whatever's in there—because something obviously is in there. The last thing Hickey needs is someone dying on his watch and then everybody blaming him for it.

"What d'you think we'll find in there?"

[comfortablyerect]

"Probably cans."

It's said in the same exact tone he's been using, while wearing the same stoic expression, so it's difficult to tell if he's being genuine or if this is sarcasm.

"Maybe if we pray to the liquor gods, some decent bourbon." It seems like they're the only two souls brave (or stupid) enough to go on this expedition, so he arches a brow and gestures toward the path. "Ready to go find out?"

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey rolls his eyes in a sarcastic little manner. "You know what I meant," he points out, a little light teasing in his voice. People in town have been warning them away from here. The conversations Hickey had about this place involved a lot of people saying they didn't go there for a reason. There's something there, something to scare people away.

Well whatever that is, fuck 'em. Hickey's not scared.

"I am." There's a moment before, "Though got to tell you something. If I turn into a wolf, don't shoot me, yeah? It's just something I can do. I'm still me."

What an objectively wild thing to drop on someone with no context.

[comfortablyerect]

If Tim had a nickel for every time somebody broke this news to him in almost those same exact words, he'd have ten cents. Which isn't a lot of money, but it is an odd amount of times to be told the person he's talking to is essentially a werewolf.

At least Hickey has the courtesy to tell him right away and not wait a month until he's a literal glowing ball of emotions to let him in on it. He still hasn't fully forgiven Raylan for that.

"Lucky for you I have excellent trigger discipline."

With that, he's setting down the path towards the mysterious danger. He's not the type to fill the silence, but to give a somewhat more straightforward answer to Hickey's earlier question--

"What if it's Bigfoot?"

[friendsfordinner]

"The hell's a Bigfoot?" asks Cornelius Hickey, an Englishman from the 1840s who hasn't exactly heard that term before. It's got to be something, Tim's talking about this like it's an established term. Maybe a monster of some kind? Who knows.

"No matter what it is, we're driving it out. I want to look around that cannery. I'm not going to let anything stop me."

Bigfoot or not, Tim joining him or not, Hickey has a goal in mind and he's deadset on accomplishing that.

[comfortablyerect]

"Oh, Jesus--"

It wasn't that long ago that he was explaining earthquakes to some little guy from a place called The Shire, and now he has to explain Bigfoot, too. Maybe the worst side effect of being stuck here so far is how it's turned him into some kind of fucked up science teacher.

"Bigfoot is a big--" He holds his hand a solid two feet over his head "--big hairy humanoid creature. Lives up in the woods, rarely spotted. Reckon he could fuck up a dude or two if he wanted."

[friendsfordinner]

Sounds fake. But then again, Hickey knows that if he tells people about tuunbaq, the murderous bear that's bigger than average, smart, and eats souls, the response is going to be 'sounds fake' from anyone who hadn't seen it. So sure, Bigfoot's a thing, Bigfoot exists, he'll believe that.

"Probably could," Hickey muses, "but if he lives in the woods, why'd he hide out in a cannery? If anything, I'm guessing we'll have another round of those cultists."

[comfortablyerect]

"You're right, it's probably Mothman."

No, he's not serious, and he really wasn't that serious about Bigfoot either, but his tone doesn't exactly lend itself to that. Besides, he's more interested in Hickey's speculation.

"Tell me about the cultists. I've only been here a few months."

[friendsfordinner]

Easy enough to talk about the cultists.

"It was...hmm, last September, I'd say? Group called Forest Talkers attacked us specifically. Kidnapped and mutilated some of our number, did smaller attacks before an all-out assault on Milton. They worshiped the Darkwalker and thought that by killing us, they'd bring about the end of the world quicker. Didn't work—we killed most of their number. I think there are a few of the kids in that cult hanging around Milton still, but they're smart enough not to start anything."

Hickey looks at the cannery, frown on his face as he muses, "Never really learned how big that cult was. It's entirely possible they've got some members out here, or a few of them slipped away during that chaos."

[comfortablyerect]

He's dealt with a few religious cults during his time as a marshal, but that's a little different than this. A little more rattlesnakes and a little less mutilation. His expression is impassive as he listens, the recounting serving as a reminder of the sort of things Raylan faced without Tim here to watch his back.

It never fails to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

There could certainly be cultists holed up in the cannery, though he'd think it'd have to be a lot of them to take down as many explorers as they have. He mulls over it for a moment before speaking.

"What'd they use? Weapon wise, durin' the attack. We talkin' knives, guns, magic wands?"

The last one is only half a joke, truthfully.

[friendsfordinner]

"Knives and guns, yeah," Hickey says, with a nod. "They also preferred to set fires, trying to drive us out of our houses. Doubt they'll use that if they're in here, though. Stupid as hell to burn up your own hideout."

Knives and guns inside a building make sense. Fire doesn't. And the Forest Talkers are weird but they're not dumb. They had something close to tactics during the raid—certainly more than the Interlopers, all of whom were caught off guard.

[comfortablyerect]

"I've dealt with idiots that worship a bigger idiot -- sure as hell wouldn't put it past 'em. Though I reckon these idiots aren't strung out on meth."

Which is kind of a pro and a con, in his experience. Folks are way more predictable when they're not on meth -- they're also way smarter. He glances at Hickey, arching an eyebrow.

"Did the cultists have anyone who could uh, wolf out?"

[friendsfordinner]

"Not that I could tell," he shrugs. There's a rakish grin on Hickey's face as he muses, "Seems like that little gift is something exclusive to our group. I haven't heard of anybody living in the wilderness or in this town that can shift like I can."

Which Hickey is very proud and smug about, even if it's something that objectively, he has no control over. He doesn't choose who can turn into a wolf, but that doesn't matter! Look at what he can do!

[comfortablyerect]

"Guess we have that goin' for us, don't we?"

Tim's smile is faint, but knowing. He gets it. He hasn't heard of anybody who shoots like he can, least not in the last twenty years or so according to his commanding officers in the Rangers. Maybe it's not something he should be proud of, how good he is at taking a life. But he is, and that's just a little bit of the damage the army left him with.

There's a pause, a moment of consideration. He hadn't pried too much when Raylan told him about his 'little gift', because things were already weird with Raylan spouting off untold truths and Tim waking up a walking LiteBrite.

"What's that like?" he asks, and if Hickey wants to tell him to shut the fuck up, he'll shut the fuck up. "Wakin' up like that one day."

[friendsfordinner]

There's a moment where Hickey mulls things over, not entirely sure what to say. When he does speak, it's obvious he's choosing his words carefully.

"Odd, at first. Things like this, they take a while to get used to. Never expected to be changed like this and something like the wolf, something that isn't just an addition to what I can normally do, it's hard to grasp at first. But after a week or so? When I got used to it? It's bloody wonderful."

And he means that. There's just something so freeing about being a wolf, about existing without stupid little human conventions. About running just on instinct, living the cycle of predator and prey, no rules, no problems, no conventions made by idiots that don't make any sense, none of that. Just simple existence.

[comfortablyerect]

The thing he hates the most about this place is how long Raylan was in it without him. Yes, he's a grown ass man and he's more than capable of taking care of himself. Tim only knows about half the shit Raylan experienced here, and it kills him that he wasn't here to watch his partner's back throughout it.

"Does it hurt?" Without giving Hickey time to respond, he continues with a vague explanation for his questioning. "You can tell me to shut the fuck up if you want. My partner -- we work together back home -- he's been here for a while. He's one, too."

His work partner, even though that's not all they are now. Whatever this thing is that they're doing, it's not just his dirty laundry to air, so he makes sure to clarify.

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey shakes his head before continuing. "Nah, I don't mind asking. I know full well how bloody odd it is. Just about scared my partner when I turned for the first time."

Unlike Tim, Hickey makes no attempt to clarify. Yeah, Billy's his work partner. But he's also his husband. The word applies to both of them!

"It doesn't hurt. But it's odd. Think of...think of it like you can only see the world in black in white. But then suddenly, one day, you open your eyes and you can see color. Everything's different, there's new layers and new dimensions to things you knew before. That's what it's like."

There's a pause before Hickey's nosiness wins out. "Who's your partner?"

[comfortablyerect]

"Good. It sure as fuck sounds like it hurts."

Even with Raylan's warning of it being unpleasant, and with the added benefit of being spared from actually seeing it, hearing it was more than fucking disturbing. It was something he would quite happily go the rest of his life without ever hearing again, and he spent eight years in a literal war zone. He's not exactly easily rattled.

He takes a silent moment to scan the area, keeping himself aware of their surroundings as they walk.

"Raylan Givens. If you don't know 'im, you've at least seen 'im. Guy in the cowboy hat."

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey's expression brightens as Tim mentions Raylan. "Givens! Yeah, I know him. He's pack."

What an incredibly odd thing to say. Hickey doesn't seem to notice the oddness as he continues the conversation.

"Yeah, the whole shifting of it all looks worse than it is. Try to do it by myself, away from people, simply because I've ruined a few pairs of trousers shifting at the wrong moment. Best option for me's to strip, and that's something reserved for the privacy of my own home."

It's said in a light, joking tone: Hickey knows nobody wants to see his dick. And frankly, there are parts of his anatomy he doesn't want people to see either!

[comfortablyerect]

He's pack.

It is a weird fucking thing to say, though Tim's frown is really only visible in the very faint crease of his brows. Ultimately, he should be glad that there's somebody -- probably multiple somebodys -- watching Raylan's back when he's running around on all fours, and he is. It's also just kind of weird. Something he's still getting used to.

"Raylan has the same problem," Tim says, though it's hard to see it as a problem at this point, and Tim's smiling faintly. There's humor in his voice as he continues. "Your partner and I should start a support group. Wolf Lovers Anonymous or some shit."

[friendsfordinner]

"Lord knows Billy would appreciate someone to bitch and moan with," Hickey lightly teases. There's a small pause before,

"That's my partner, by the way. Billy Gibson. Tall stick of a man, lives with me in Milton."

[comfortablyerect]

"Don't think I've had the honor of meetin' him yet, but I am pretty damn good at bitchin' and moanin'." Especially these days. There's no shortage of things to bitch and moan about around here.

They're making good progress toward the cannery, the building getting larger in the distance. Tim spots something just off the road up ahead, and it only takes him a moment to identify it, because he's seen it too many times before. A body.

"Reckon we're gonna be seein' a lot more of that the closer we get."

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey also doesn't seem to pay the body much notice. It's a body. He's seen them before, he'll see them again here. It's just a body, nothing more.

"Probably," he muses, as he walks over to take a closer look at the body. Hickey's not a pathologist or a coroner, but even he can point out a few things of note with the body—most notably, the big, obvious wound on it's neck.

"These are teeth marks," says the man who knows exactly what teeth marks look like. "Best guess is a wolf? Not too certain, though."