She folded her arms, giving back with her eyes as good as she got from Gregor's tongue.  She didn't deign to defend herself from his accusations -- though thievery was an ugly and unworthy word for her entirely understandable act.  But his final statement was too pointed to ignore.

"Why?" she said, flatly, "And who is to say what should and should not be ours?  No, I do not know about lycanthropes, or the Protection of the Realm act or what happened in 734, or a hundred other things in this damp country, but I know when things are odd.  And this, is odd."

She looked from the torchlit mass of bloodied limbs to the looming darkness of the forest's edge.  An owl's hoot sounded from somewhere within the impenetrable shadow.  It was impossible to see.

"Have you killed these creatures before?" she asked, "You are surely not going after it in there?  Now?"