Malcoda shrugged, not giving her an answer. He'd eaten many things over his lifetime, beast, human and comrade alike. They tasted the same and at one point cannibalism wasn't quite as taboo among the humans. Either way, he'd eaten, survived and thrived. He'd done it while starving and hoping for food. The rush of the kill racing through his blood so quickly he felt like a human on pure cocaine.
He could feel the blood still dripping from his shoulder, chest, tail and his testicles throbbed and ached the most. Shifting was going to hurt worse than a bitch in heat and Mal was pretty certain Garret was not going to like what he looked like as a human. He was loathe to call out Wesley, especially with Ziv around, so Mal was already planning to wait and see just how bad his injuries were before calling in a healer.
"Máte pravdu. Nie som ani šteňa, ani mačacie." He kept walking, taking the shorter path to his home and well aware that he did not answer her question.