Hoshor Plains blood will spill into the gutters and it will stain the morning sun

The closer she comes, the more she reveals of herself.  Her leg, which he had assumed was strained or perhaps broken was shriveled and had atrophied beyond repair.  Her eyes were a kind oak instead of the brilliant, knowing sapphire of Delphine's knowing gaze.  The notches of her spine were peppered with warm grey hues, and the scars upon her frame were many.

Thrall, is the first title that comes to mind rather than leader , and though he is not foolish enough to underestimate her he begins to dissect the meaning of her words in his mind.  Did she mean "my pack" as in "my pack," or rather "the pack in which I am a part of"?  His face remains flat, though betrayed in his darkened glance is a hint of shining intelligence that many would not assume such a brute to have at first glance.

Perhaps there, at the foot of the mountain, he rumbles as his nose inclines scarcely to point at his shelter, though his words are open-ended as if to say, unless you have a better offer. He stretches his colossal legs, moving from his sphynx-like position in the grass to shake his pelt free of the dew and snow that collected upon his marble sculpted frame.