Sketch stood up from the rocks, and walked over to the dead body of the wolf. He took his walking stick and poked it’s side. No response came from the body.
He bent down and examined the body, looking it over carefully. The auburn beast seemed abnormal to Sketch. It was larger than a normal wolf by about 100 pounds, it’s teeth were too long and exaggerated. And to top it off, it was unusual for a wolf to hunt alone.

Sketch stood up, and brushed the dirt off his clothes. He lifted his head to the cut on his forehead, and brought his fingers back covered with a decent amount of blood. “Bloody head wounds…Bleed like crazy…”He muttered to himself.

Not knowing how far away from the next town he was, he cleared the brush from a large circle, and set up a small fire. He set water to boil as he looked around. He found a few wild onions growing near the rocks he’d sat upon before, and cut some bark from a rather lively white oak.

He made a thin decoction of the onions and bark, letting the water simmer for a while. He allowed the juice to cool as the took strips of cloth and tried to clean them with a small amount of lye. After the water had cooled, he soaked it up in the clean cloths and began to clean the cut on his forehead, and treat the various other
small scrapes he’d received.

Sketch always tried to be careful when it came to injury, he’d heard many stories about campers getting into dreadful situations just because they lacked the basic common sense to not run around the woods bleeding all over.

He looked over at the wolf once more as the fire went on, contemplating if the meat was any good, and decided against it. Strange meat rarely agreed with him, and that wolf was a textbook example of “strange”.

As the over cast sky darkened into night, Sketch sat down and cooked some of the wild onions over the fire, with his usual fare of trail rations. The night was quiet, not a sound had been made since the wolf appeared, yet Sketch had a hard time sleeping, both from the memory of the last night, and from the prospect of having more wolves try to ambush him.

Once dawn had risen, Sketch got up, and rubbed the weariness from his eyes, and packed his campsite up. He attempted to find his way back to the roadside, and continue back towards the next village.