Ouroboros Spine j - hollow life

The woman was near enough to the border to smell the others proximity. Her scent was faint but by the day, grew stronger. Already it overpowered the once-leaders, and soon it would be unquestionable who led. Tonravik was certain some might overstep their bounds, but their bloody and beaten bodies would decorate her borders when they were found and, when they rotted, then their bones. Had Tonravik not seen him fully, she would have made an example of him, first.

But that coat she had only ever seen once, and his scent reeked of the place she had fought for, once. It had been recent, and like her mother, she had a nose that did not forgot. Kroc was not wrong to be on edge; Tonravik only wished she had cowed the man, forced him back. That would not happen again.

There was no anger on her, not even disappointment. As she moved near to them, her gruff voice sounded: "Ivitaruk," he had been her battlefield companion, her battle-buddy. Together, they had killed many. More likely than not, he had been investigating as she. Had he not thought Tonravik was the lead here, he himself could have attempted to usurp. She looked to Kroc. "We attack. We push away. If they remain, then we let them talk." They did not get the privilege of speaking until they weathered the blows rained upon them. Tonravik glanced to Ivitaruk, sure he would understand, even though he could have been victim to that.

Then she fell silent, waiting for his words. Ivitaruk had either come here on his own accord, or been sent to deliver a message from the West. She would find out now.