Larksong Grotto Thy wicker feet may tread these roads

Jhala let out a heavy breath, but listened carefully. It certainly wasn't smart to wander the territory when pregnant, but if the children died then they died-- she had no need for them. As awkward and bulky as she was, her teeth worked just fine, and she felt she could easily defend herself. Not that she truly could, but maybe, and that's all she needed.

"Sure," she says plainly, tail flicking. "We worship Raas, the Daystar," she begins, nosing up to the sun. She awaited a reaction like 'you worship the fucking sun?'-- or whatever he would think-- before continuing along. "I'm the pack's Grand Vicar and our Cardinal is Hiram... he leads us. If you're okay with worshipping the sun-- Daystar," she trails off somewhat ruggedly, her mood was too vile to hide her disbelief as well as she usually did. To a stranger perhaps she'd just seem disoriented, though, which wasn't totally out of the picture. "You're welcome here," she finishes.