Hoshor Plains Running at my side

Fat?  Although the term had sort of become a running joke when referring to the washed up warrior, coming from his brother, even in jest, it carried with it a twinge of self-consciousness.  Lavakho winced and sighed, but nevertheless he pushed through to join his brother's side with a rough bump by his shoulder.  "I'm not fat,"   said Lavakho as he tried to force a smile.  "I could still give you a run for your money brother."  While he may have lacked his brother's grace in combat, Lavakho was stacked in brute strength.  Although it had been a long time since the two had fought side by side in Rhaesh Dahaan, Rakharo of all wolves would know of his prowess, as he had practically escaped the bloody fray unscathed, untouched.

But after the initial hurt wore off, his brother's words sunk in.  He was looking for him. The Hoshor Plains stretched for miles in their expanse and it was quite easy to get lost in it's grassy embrace.  And get lost he did.  "Well, you found me.  Took you long enough,"  he chortled. "Guess my ass wasn't fat enough to spot, eh brother?"