Hoshor Plains drag race

The breaths came, in and out. Consistent, and then, suddenly stopped. Lavakho pulled his head away from the slave's neck and shot her a confused glance, however he did not speak. Instead he placed his head back on her neck and waited for the breathing to resume. It wasn't like she could hold out forever. Bodily functions tended to be important.

He scooted in closer beside her and looked up toward the sky. "Look up," he whispered, motioning to the sky with his muzzle. The stars shined bright over the plains and Lavakho was struck with the beauty of the night and it's ethereal quality. He had yet to dig himself a den like the others. Instead, he preferred to sleep under the open sky and hoped to share that with the slave and his unborn. "It's beautiful."