"Dogs will wish to find a meal," he offers. "Once they have lost the scent of what they have been tracking, they will likely return to the camp. Or at least, this meadow, where they will likely be found."

Along with what is left (not much) of the hunting party and their gear.

Gingerly, he steps away from the treeline and 'hops' into the air, using his wings to lift himself above the grass (and mess) to survey the scene. "Is there anything you would have me gather?" He is unsure if she wishes to shift 'down' again while still covered in blood and flesh.