Hoshor Plains Shor Tawakof

The Khal's summons came as a surprise to the old wolf, who hadn't really been paying attention to the current events. He knew something had been going on — it was impossible to not notice the tension between the Khalas. Still, Rhanno stayed out of it, not overly eager to pry into business that could endanger his place in the pack. Besides, he was quite enjoying retirement, simply watching the bison graze without the looming threat of raids and other such worries that came with being Khal.

However, Rakharo's call was to the whole pack, and it sounded urgent. With a snort, Rhanno rolled onto his paws and began to lope in the direction the howl had come from, wondering if all this tension had finally come to climax.

The bloodied figure lying near Rakharo was the last thing he expected, but the elder kept his expression serious and critical as he approached. A few others had already arrived, and Rhanno gave a half-glance to Zoratto, features crinkling slightly. He still wasn't sure how to feel about his former captive and the boy's apparent freedom, but it was a subject that was in the past now. There were obviously more pressing matters to attend to. Drawing up beside Azzaro, Rhanno gazed at the female on the ground, her tail a stub and throat nearly torn wide open. He looked back up the Khal, a hint of interest flickering in his eyes. "Does she live?" he asked bluntly, without any of the concern and worry of the younger wolves' questions.