Greatwater Lake trying to make a devil out of me

Avoidance was the name of the game.  Skirting around the important questions and awkward talks with Rakharo had become Lavakho's day to day routine.  He postponed the inevitable heavy conversation with his brother in every way imaginable, but mostly, he wandered on the fringes of the plains, hoping that the pup problem would resolve itself.  As if his brother would undergo some random change of heart, however Lavakho knew that would never be the case.  The hybrids would die if nothing was done.  Rakharo was a stubborn man, a problem that plagued both of the Drojharkosi brothers, and youngest was beginning to find that buying time was only serving to play with the lives of his unborn brood.  

But, facing the music was too damn hard.  Wandering, on the other-hand, that was easy.  Seclusion required nothing. Isolation couldn't be disappointed.  The only consistent social contact he had was with the slave, Lavakho had pulled away from everyone else, even Zhav— but that was probably for the best.  Otherwise, he remained alone.  Bitter and lonely.

He walked east without purpose toward the lake until a vaguely familiar scent caught his attention.  It was one he had smelled in his previous encounter with Rhanno when the bison acted all screwy.  He thought nothing of it then, but this second time, he decided to pursue and swing around the southern bank until the sylph like figure of an outsider came into view.  She was small, unthreatening.  Though it was neutral territory, Lavakho approached with dominant (yet, not aggressive) stature; tail and head held high.  

He didn't speak, but he stared quizzically.