The inquisitor's brief astonishment quickly made way for focus and determination. "Very well, I believe you," Gregor said in a placating tone. He tried to follow her gestures in the darkness but couldn't see what she was pointing at. He was just going to have to trust her talents here. [i]Witchcraft,[/i] he reminded himself. Gregor would have to think about the implications of this later. 

"Well," Gregor whispered, thinking hard. "Werewolves rip out of the skin of their human selves when they transform. Blood clings to them. How good is your sense of smell, exactly? Does one of them also smell like human blood?"

It was then that he noticed Loka had placed her hand on his back. Gregor opened his mouth to say something about it but changed his mind. Even through the leather of his greatcoat, her hand felt warm.