Like last time, the titan returns to the scene of the wolf battle; not just to revel in another glorious fight, but to see if the cure for the black nostril ooze lies here. He doubts it - the Blood Falls had not cleared the boils, after all. Only possession by Rikyn had managed that, and the giant is struggling to come up with any possible cures for this particular disease. Still, he finds himself marauding around the maze of trees and bushes, following the scents that his new enhanced sense of smell allows him to detect. Using just his nose, he can find his way back to the reek of rotting flesh that is so potent it makes his eyes sting.

He is surprised to see his relative staggering amongst the shattered carcasses of the mini-wolves. The young stallion hadn't seen Öde's death during the fight; if he had, he would undoubtedly have tried to aid him. His last memory of the unicorn, therefore, is that highly explicit sight of Öde's excitement during the bear battle, an excitement that Volterra can fully understand now manhood grips him like a curse. The smallest hint of a smirk darts across his face at the memory, but it is quickly smothered as the sound of his lips peeling from his teeth causes a grating in his overly-sensitive ears. Nothing can get him accustomed to the acuteness of his senses, courtesy of the Labyrinth disease. He smells like a snake and hears like a bat, but he would happily hand those quirks back from whence they came if it would rid him of the accursed black essence that hangs from all his facial orifices. His dragon is off hunting again, but Volterra does not need his bonded's sharp eyes and wings now he is so plagued with sounds and smells.

The mammoth yearling draws to a halt and fixes Öde with his penetrating red gaze. The stallion does not look well. In fact, he looks like death - if only Volterra knew the irony of that thought. "Öde?" The titan's masculine rumble sounds like thunder to his ears, which he carefully folds backwards to try and smother the racket. He flicks his eyeline lazily across the older man, elevating one sculped brow as he does so. "You look like shit." Not that the colt himself looks much better, with black ooze pouring from his eyes like bloody tears, and from his nose and mouth in rivulets.