The sky was cloudy, the grey kind of cloudy that darkened the spirits of the living and left that eeriness lingering around. It was so cold. It was not a good day in the Plains. The herds had retreated once again to find shelter around the most vegetated areas of the land and so the Khalas had moved along to do their work.
A golden eagle was feeding from the remains of the last Dotharan kill. A young bull, he'd given good fight, but the Khalas had just been better. Rakharo himself had been the one to take the last strike, ending the young life. It was a pitty having to take such young individuals, but that had been the one stupid enough to separate from the herd. Stupidity led to death, and the Khalas needed to protect the herd from stupid individuals.
From the distance, the golden Khal watched lying down how the eagle stripped out chunks of meat from the carcass with its sharp beak. It was strange to think that such a magnificent species would reduce themselves to scavenging, just like coyotes...
The crone moved slowly across the plain, making herself visible for once. She had taken to huddling alone in a cave in the mountains, divining. Her dreams were murky and did not tell much, and there were no omens to be read in the stars or the grass or the rock. In short, Laqikki's vision was normal. There was no telling what was in the khalas' future. She supposed that was a good thing—no omen was better than a bad omen.
As she walked deeper into the territory, the familiar musk of a female in heat hit her nose, but its unfamiliarity made her wrinkle her lips. Laqikki once was Khaleesi of a very traditional khalas where non-wolf slaves were beaten within an inch of their life in breeding time to prevent this exact thing. Perhaps Rakharo was a softer Khal than her late husband, but Laqikki could not keep her prejudice in check, and was practically storming when she saw the Khal watching an eagle strip the bones of their latest trophy kill.
The crone approached him, slow and deliberate as always, and for a long while did not say anything. At last, she opened her mouth and croaked out, "Dout silit riika jalla ti qe tenpiswo jaka."
The eagle suddenly noticed Rakharo's presence, but it didn't flee right away. Their gazes fixed for a moment during which neither Rakharo nor the eagle moved a muscle, they just stared until the eagle semed to become aware of someone else's presence behind the Khal and fled right away.
Rakharo had detected Laqikki's scent a while ago, he had sharp senses, but not being bothered by her company, the Khal continued to do what he was doing. Until she spat a few words with her rusty voice.
Rakharo knew about Tomahawk's heat, it was impossible to ignore it when her strong scent was all over the place making his wolves uneasy. A female in heat used to be a big deal back in Rhaesh Dahaan where every member of the pack and even outsiders and rogues would fight for the right to couple with her, but when it came to coyote slaves it was a bit different. Pairing with coyotes was heavily rejected by the Dotharan, who were highly protective of their blood purity.
"Yth tepoha thric Khaleesi..." Rakharo claimed with contempt not even turning around to face the crone. It was common knowledge among the Dotharan that it was the ruling female who took care of other females during heat, chasing them out to prevent males from coupling with them while the Khal took care of Males. But Hoshor Plains didn't have a ruling female.
She watched as the eagle took wing, leaving behind the scraps it hoped to feed on. Rakharo didn't turn to her, and Laqikki didn't expect him to. Even wise Khals knew the Dosh Khaleen commanded great respect, but Laqikki was just one crone, and even then, a Khal was still greater. Her companions had yet to arrive and there was little she could glean on her own, so for now she lounged about the great golden plains with little insight to offer to anyone.
Except her opinions, of course, which were never very kind. The Khal attempted to explain the situation and Laqikki barked a hoarse laugh. She didn't mean to mock him, but she was quick to ask, "whose fault is that?" A Khaleesi could be made of any wolf willing to take a powerful Khal upon their back, though she supposed there were more males in this khalas than in many others. The most suitable female was Rakharo's daughter.
Not that Laqikki would've even batted an eyelash if Rakharo bedded his own daughter and had children by her. That sort of thing didn't make a lick of difference to the crone.
"Why have you not chosen a Khaleesi, Rakharo?" she wondered, settling herself with creaking of bones into a hunched sit.
As the crone laughed behind him, Rakharo turned around to shoot her a stoic glance, not amused at all. There was no fault in not having taken a Khaleesi yet, Rakharo had not even considered it yet until the females started going crazy behind his back, which was the moment it became clear to him. But still, even if there were no suitable females to take as Khaleesi, Rakharo still felt weird about even thinking of it. Zhalia still had his heart.
"And who would I take? You?" this one was not meant as a mock either, but he still snorted nonetheless. Rakharo respected the crone, but she still was a way far from Kraza Dothar, and Rakharo was the Khal. He didn't mind acknowledging the Dosh Khaleen's status, but he still was in command.
"Would it be wise to take a foreigner?" the Khal asked with hesitance, truly expecting the crone to talk him out of it. He had considered this option before, but these foreigners were unpredictable, he didn't know them that well to trust half his Khalas to one of them.