Lion Head Mesa Mom come pick me up I'm scared

Worm looks down to the afforementioned soil, and then back up to Zaahira; her many titles a jumbled mess in the vermin's mind. A plentiful land, everything one could dream of, touched by 'the gods?'—wait, there were more of them? Worm found herself hopeful, and a different sort of hopeful, this wasn't a facade finely crafted to quell the loss of sanity, this was not a desperate attempt to convince herself, No—this was a real, tangible sort of hope. 

She'd long since abandoned divinity, the pursuit of impressing a god who was blind and deaf to those who fell outside of the pure-blood Carres wolves. No, he had dictated that her kind must suffer and toil in service for their impurity, for their filthy blood; and no share of exceptional talent nor undying loyalty would've gained her a place among his people. Not even death in their name was enough to deliver one stained with the mark of vermin.

She was not meant to be among those people. But her own were still subjuagted. Her own still offered tithes of children and of goods, hell, her own would not have seen her as theirs at all, she'd been gone away too long. Nobody would vouch for their wayward daughter, offered to spare the rest such a fate. No, fear still ruled them and she had gotten her fair share.

So where did Worm belong? Stripped of identity in all facets, where would she go? What would she do? She'd asked herself such questions over and over and over while she walked until her paws were cracked and slicked with callous and blood. Yet here, standing on this soil, a woman extended a hand to her; albeit, locked behind a test of skill, but an extension of good will all the same. She offered an answer to those questions that wracked her so, those questions that tore her in two.

 If this land was inhabited by gods, Worm only saw one afront her, reaching out. 

None had ever done such a thing before and so she stammers a moment, lifting herself up and crooking her head to the side a moment, and then back up to face her properly. ..This one is a good fighter. Good at fooling. Good at stealing. This one can kill and has no qualms. Whatever Akashingo needs, Worm can be. She says firmly, and dips her head.