Hoshor Plains crimson blood

If Azzaro could speak the common tongue, what use did Tomahawk have? She peered at him, curious. Perhaps she was less threatening. Perhaps Azzaro had better uses than being a translator. Perhaps he simply did not want to spend all of his time converting words from one language to another. She did not know, and he did not explain, so she did not ask.

He broke off suddenly, and the coyote was confused for a moment, wondering if she had somehow offended him. It did not seem so. Azzaro leapt at a rabbit, and Tomahawk watched with wonder as his muscular form moved to capture and kill the rabbit. He broke the creature in one fell swoop, and Tomahawk was staring, jaw-hinged, before she caught herself and clicked her teeth shut. The kindness he showed her was unexpected as he dropped the kill at her feet. Wasn't she supposed to be serving them, not the other way around?

When he explained the name he had given her, Tomahawk furrowed her brow and shook her head. "I am not good," she replied. Rakharo had made sure she had known that. He had commanded her to eat, and so she did, tearing limb from limb the rabbit that Azzaro had dropped at her feet.