Ouroboros Spine How charged with punishments the scroll,[m]

His voice sounded in the air, and she looked to him. It appeared she struggled with something. In fact, it was the very thing he asked of her. Words. This feeling within her, how could she put it in words? She inhaled, then exhaled. Tonravik looks to him, coming to a feeling of utter exasperation in seconds (a testament to her patience, which was nonexistent), before deciding she would show him. Tonravik gestured to her side, huffing as though to say, I tried. The truth of it was that she had. But this very real instinct could not be explained. If it could, perhaps he could put it into words for her.

And then she began to move. Slowly, at first, and looking to see if he would join her... and then her instinct again gave way. It was subtle, hardly there. A simple desire to find something that would offer her... what? She stopped, sniffed, and continued on. Until she stopped entirely, and looked to him, shrugging. The feeling had gone, and with it, the desire to search. She did not reach within herself to search for it.

Tonravik moved back to him, her fellow leader, and inspected him for all the recent wounds she could smell by the scent of dried up blood, and then, new blood. They seemed all things he could handle, and a proud look crossed over her countenance.