Raidou's sword hung from one hand, splattering the grass with fine droplets of blood and viscera as he kept pace. He didn't want to sheath it yet--not until he had something to clean it with. His shirt was drenched through, sticking to his skin. His armour was in the ground.

At least he wouldn't have to clean it.

Dull laughter twisted under the henge. He let it rattle in his chest until lack of air burned it away. In the distance the barn was burning, too. He was grateful they weren't close enough to smell it.

"Washing's sensible," he called back. "Don't want to scare the kids." Or leave tracks all over the place, if Aoi was right and there were other predators around. In his free hand he toyed absently with a dull steel chain. Where bare skin showed, drying blood made him itch. "Do you want to head home tonight? Or crash in the cabin and go tomorrow?"