Hoshor Plains Hunting Horns

Turns out, Awazzi was right.  Mountains gave way to meadows, and meadows trailed off into plains that stretched as far as the eye could see. And the bison, the bison roamed in clusters, untouched and waiting for the Dotharan's arrival.  It was beautiful.  Upon arriving to the promised lands, all of Lavakho's growing bitterness, anger, and mistrust that he had built up toward the crones and his brother had all but faded away, leaving the gentle giant to be his happy and easy-going self once again.

After discovering the territory, Lavakho hadn't strayed far from his brother's side. Quietly, he waited for further instruction.  When his brother brought up the idea of a pack hunt, Lavakho couldn't have been more exuberant. With the whole pack together, this hunt would be a goddamn cakewalk.  Over the past few months, the warrior had pined and prayed for 'proper' prey, and finally he would have it.  Surely, Rhoa had granted them his favor.

Although Lavakho didn't particularly listen to the words that his brother spoke before the pack, he admired their intensity and the prideful tone behind them.  Lavakho had felt that same pride, and felt more connected to his brother than ever.  But when his brother began his sprint, Lavakho knew it was show time as he took off behind him, leading the rest of the Khalas into the foray.