Hoshor Plains a feeling that consumes

Tomahawk is on the edge of claimed land, so anybody is welcome! HP wolves are welcome to notice that she's been scarce the past few days.

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Vague references to coyote bangin'.

She had kept to the outskirts of the plains ever since she had realized what was happening. A part of her yearned for their company, but she was not sure how her condition would be taken. Would she be chased off? She longed for their embrace, but it was not something she was sure they would want. The last thing she needed was to make them angry with her. Tomahawk was here to serve, not to give into her own weaknesses—no matter how much they pulled at her.

The coyote had not strayed far from the small area she had been roaming for the past few days. Hopefully, this would all be over in a matter of another ten or so days. She prayed that it would, but she was not even sure to whom she should be praying. Tomahawk had never had any gods, and she was not sure if she was permitted to seek solace in her masters' gods. The bison were glorious creatures, and much to regal for simpletons like herself.

Tomahawk's lanky legs kept her moving, for that seemed to be the only thing that would keep her from seeking out a male.