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

stealing, lying, killing. zaahira's interest in the girl only grows, her eyes lightening. whatever we need, yes?
her next words are carefully chosen. we need soldiers. with such important people within our halls to protect, we have high standards for our security personnel. we want wolves who will get themselves dirty. wolves who know their own strengths and weaknesses. wolves who will bleed. and if your truth is as you say it is, she gestures now for the girl to straighten. then you will be one of them. mazoi.
she turns toward the coolness of the mesa's shadow, whispering a request to a passing fellahin to prepare refreshments near the wellspring. the sweeping grandeur of the underground passages swallow the pair into warm filtered light which shimmers off of the sandstone.
your first lesson as mazoi is that you will do exactly as i say, when i say it. no questions asked. if i say to you, 'off with the head', your only response should be sinking your teeth into flesh. hal tafhama? they pass by the mazoi barracks, and zaahira feels a tug of reminiscence, expression sinking slightly into something unreadable. you have your choice of room. they are simple, but they are warm and private. and i can promise you it is better than anywhere else.
enjoy your look around, because we are not staying here for long, she leans coolly against the entryway. you need a bath.