Hoshor Plains crimson blood

"I do not know," she answered truthfully. What went on in the minds of wolves was not something she could know. "My name is Tomahawk," she said, answering his second question. He had not immediately chased her off, and for that she was glad. It meant that he likely had some purpose for her. Oddly enough, a lot of the Dotharan wolves seemed to just like having somebody to talk to. When Tomahawk had been captured, she had thought it would be much different and much more demanding.

"May I be of service to you in some way?" she asked, never shy to request such things. Without the Dotharan, she had no direction. With them, she was told what to do and when to do it. No longer did she let thoughts of her filthy species plague her mind. Instead, she let the Dotharan think for her.