Hoshor Plains [birth] these gifts i bring

The giver of gifts crumpled beneath Rakharo's grip, though Tomahawk could not see much of it from inside the den. He admitted to fathering the children, and then he did something entirely surprising: he surrendered. He gave his life to the Khal, requested to serve. Carefully, Tomahawk wriggled her way closer to the mouth of the den, keeping her three slave children close. She had to keep an eye on what was happening. Her eyes remained emotionless even as her master pissed on the yet-unnamed coyote male.

When Rakharo approached the den to take Lavakho's brood, Tomahawk stole further into the recesses of the dark hole, again keeping her children close. She let herself look at them, really look at them, for the first time. There were two girls and a boy. They were small, but they would suffice. The boy would be Papref. Future. The smallest child would be Sart. Small. And the last would be Regipre. Gift. Tomahawk smiled at them. They would please Rakharo. She would teach them to from this day forward.