Jeanette & Hook
Bone soup and turtle blood. That sounded a lot like something the Nagaraja would have a try at, minus the turtles maybe. Still, with the flying poodle rat thing dead, Jeanette pulled a small pout on her lips before drawing her index finger along a splash of blood on Hook's sword for a quick taste. What Therese didn't know she couldn't shriek about later.
"Bleh," she was sorely tempted to drop a fang into her own tongue just to get rid of that foul taste. "Worse than poultry!" Definitely not something to add to the Marrowood menu.
So they'd established two things; Hook could get pointy and wavy with the sword kill all the yuck, and Jeanette didn't like bat-poodle-thing. Great. "Yes, lets, that way. I think. Hang on," another burst of auspex told her that no, actually that was not the way, "oh, this way actually." Stupid blue thing moving, what did it think this was? Really.
"The roots of the trees are all raised up, and there's something to the right of us breathing loudly, although it's a few miles off." Weird how she could hear it but not see or smell it, "we should probably try to not be here when it gets here."