Valentine shrugged. "Uh...you got whupped for being a thief?" She shook her head. "Anyway, its getting late, I think. I'm probably gonna set up camp here for the night." Valentine went to check her sword, and winced when she accidentally cut herself. A droplet of blood, hardly a thimble full, hit the grass, staining a blade red. "Yeowch," cried Valentine. "Gotta be more careful."
A three hours walk south, the mad raccoon stopped. He raised his nose to the sky, and sniffed.
"That smell...the sickening sweet," he whispered to himself. "I can smell it. Oh...fresh blood." He crouched, and howled upwards like an animal.