Ouroboros Spine focus, fire a gun

The leader had caked herself in mud. 

The days would get so hot that there were few other ways to survive them; so on top of being inactive during the hours the sun began to warm the lands, she looked the part of a swamp monster. While upon most it might be a humorous look, Tonravik wore it well; it did nothing to change her already unattractive appearance, for she was a simple "beauty". 

A strange scent came to her nose. A scent Tonravik would never forget. If ever someone smelled of power, it was her mother. Tonravik strove to embody the woman, but had become her own wolf, equally as savage, simply relatively more calculating. Not logical, though; none of her cubs would inherit the ability to differentiate logic from instinct, because instinct was the only logic there was in the wilds. 

The alpha moved toward the scent, even her own pre-estrus curbed for the briefest of moments, an anxiety that her mother had come for one reason or another pressing upon her. But it was not she that Tonravik came across, and her pending heat caused her insides to roil at her own stupidity. Siku would not come; Siku led, and could not. But here was a small piece of her. 

Tonravik moved through the shrubs rather than around them, her tail stiff above her hindquarters. It was clear this one had traveled a long way, if she had known her mother. Tonravik wastes not a moment in insisting her dominance in her approach, and would soon invade the others space to get nearer to the scent she had known only as a child.