Hoshor Plains Shor Tawakof

The Khasak hadn't strayed from his brothers side ever since the pair of foreigners had entered their land with the body of one of their own.  Kivi's actions had brought trouble along with them, and if she were to pull through, she would surely wish for death.  Lavakho would make sure of it. Rakharo may have been lenient when it came to Lavakho's escapades, but they were family.  Kivi may have been Dotharan, but they did not share the same blood.  And therefore, Lavakho did not hold the same affection for her.  

His brother howled to summon the rest of the pack and Lavakho couldn't help his eyes from drifting to the barely breathing body of Kivi.  Even as the healer and the crone went to work on her, he still poked and prodded with his nose in the hopes that he would get some sort of a reaction.  Even though wasn't fond of the girl, he didn't want her to die.  She was still Dotharan.  Stupid, but one of their own.  However, Kivi would never know the way Lavakho felt about the matter because he held no intention of telling her he wished that she would pull through.  That would make him appear soft.

The other members of the Khalas had begun to file in and ask questions by the paw full.  "She trespassed," he growled in smug disgust.  "—Stirred up shit with the natives."  He turned to Rhanno, the elder, who had asked the most important question of all.  "She'll live, but she'll wish she won't."