Lion Head Mesa culture shock

Senmut. From what little Zaahira had gathered of the Erpa-ha, he did not seem the type to do such a thing; at least not for someone who would have been considered an enemy. A humble gesture, one of great compassion. Perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.
But you maintain it, you said, yes? she is quick to retort with a lighthearted flicker. That is very kind of you, Tuna. You deserve just as many thanks as he. A wispy smile before she shuffles alongside the coyote woman, willowy legs tucked neatly in a poised sit beside her tryst's remains.
Oh, how she longed to touch her again.
She's asked what she loved about her. Love is not a word she had ever thought to use to describe how she felt for her; Zaahira did not think of herself as a lover. What defined love? And in due time, what she felt for Selena could have been that. But she spent more time loving her memory than she did her physical presence.
Still, she had many things to say.
She was very sweet. Would not have hurt a fly, very gentle. She thought fondly of the spirits and spoke to them often. Very pretty eyes, the intelligent kind of brown that sparkle when she looked to you. A gentle lover. She was kind to me. It's then that Zaahira's forehead sinks down to touch the hardened dirt. Khaba did not like her gentleness. Punished her for it. Ordered for her to be attacked and watched as that fucking chelb did it. I tried so hard to stop her, Tuna, I--
In, out. In, out. In, out. Hardly was she even aware of the tears that darken her cheeks.
I hate him. I hate that girl, and I do not know where she is. She was not in Greatwater when we attacked. Khaba is paying his price, but I want her to pay too.