Hoshor Plains Little Boxes

Lavakho's quiet time was inturrupted by Zhavvi pouncing on his back in a fruitful attempt to startle the unsuspecting warrior.  Half-lidden eyes shot open in surprise as he spit the bone out of his mouth and into the dirt.  He turned to the girl with a growl beginning to rumble in the bottom of his throat, however, after seeing who his would be assailant, he quelled his hostility and grinned. Of all the wolves who resided in the Hoshor Plains, Zhavvi was the most welcome to interrupt relaxy-time.

She had a playful spirit about her.  That was always something Lavakho could get behind wink wink.  Few wolves ever saw a playful side to the generally stoic warrior, however, both Zhavvi and Rakharo got the real Vakho and not the tough shell that he wore like armor.  With his niece, Lavakho was a child once again.

"I'm not fat," he corrected while she played with his ear. "I'm just bulking... I've got a figure to maintain Zhav."  He pulled away and rolled, exposing his underbelly. "See, not fat... just—" he paused while he tried to find the right word, "—intimidating."