Rufus blinked. Grimmjow hadn't said, 'A cure for what?' or, 'Are you ill?' or perhaps ignored the statement altogether, or any of the other responses Rufus had expected. What the hell else did the cat know? Well, he'd given something away, too, though Rufus wasn't certain the revelation was anything but deliberate.
"I should," he said slowly, feeling it was the truth.
There was a splotch of black atop the gray rocks, and Rufus tilted his head back to look up at it. A crow, he recognized. Or was it a raven? He watched, curious, as the gleaming black bird swiveled its head around abruptly, then cocked its eye down to peer directly at Rufus. It blinked, and Rufus blinked back. Then it opened its beak and gave a rough cry that Rufus recognized from earlier. Well, so much for the hunting call of some terrible man-eating beast.
But crows eat carrion, don't they? He hurried after Grimmjow.