Upon sniffing the Thorn's clothing, Didymus's lips curled back from his teeth in a barely repressed growl, and his hackles rose almost uncomfortably underneath his doublet. The reaction an automatic one, in response to the acrid tang of another canid predator -- but a much less noble one. A scavenger, that preferred to feed off death rather than take down its prey in a more sporting manner. He hadn't many dealings with those types, but the ones he had had were memorable, and the odor was unmistakable.
"The knave reeks of jackal," Didymus said then, looking up at his partners in this endeavor. He then raised his nose to the breeze, in order to pinpoint where the scent might be strongest.