He was suddenly unsure how to phrase his response to Jemriah's question. A simple one, but with depth and context that could leave it misconstrued. "Not myself. I've seen a number of them however." He taps the sigil embroidered on his robes. "My clan's connection to wolves is long, and it extends to those cursed to live both lives. Some we help. Others we put down. He pauses. "Most we put down." There's a touch of remorse in his voice. "They're dangerous when fed, lethal when hungry. If we can take some meat from one of the houses it might serve as a distraction. Assuming it even is a werewolf, and not something else. It could just be a mangy wolf with a weird howl." He didn't believe it was, of course. He'd been around enough mutts and runts to think better than that.