Redtail Rise Let The Feast Begin

words. Avicus doesn't have much use for those. she's heartened by the rumble she feels nearby in her Berserkr's chest and stands, steadfast, by him. letting the sentences wash over her; she barely hears them. all she sees is a wolf too close to her claim, and no inclination to apologize.

you hunhh'? fighh'? she demands, and then looks at Prophet. his tongue isn't mangled; he can make better inquiries of the woman than she.

she removes herself from his side, if only by inches, and glances sidelong at the woman. the fur along her spine is bristling like fire, and she feels her breath, steady but hard, her ribs stark against her slender abdomen and sleek, russet fur.