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

Worm trails after her, all the way to her home. 

She could bleed. She'd done it before, but this was different. There was something more here than a game to be played with their lessers. Here she could be soldier, and not vermin, that promotion alone was enough to cement her stay. And she got her own room? Never before seen! Meager as it may have been to esteemed eyes, Worm was simply reveling in the glory of this place. A dirty moss bed in the back of a cavern was as good as gold, and even these quarters were far better off. 

Worm could get dirty. (Worm was dirty already, in fact!) She straightened as an amber gaze commanded it, pointed ears angled up. Understood. She affirms with a nod. She could take orders, it was all she had been groomed to do, and so there would be no problems there. There was not much room for the weight of the task to be considered, only the completion of it. Off with the head. 

On their way around, she had stolen the occasional glance here and there, eyeing the others in a quick manner, not daring to make eye contact. She kept herself small, unseen, unremarkable. She stood in the shadow of the commander, ogled this golden place, and broke the militaristic stillness she maintained as she was looked over. It will be done! I will bathe!! She obeys, and rises to follow her to whereever they kept water unimportant enough for her bloodied scrapes and mud-stained feet. ...Do you give me commands alone? Or am I to be commanded by the others, as well? she asks quietly, it was worth knowing. Homeward, she was at the disposal of all who bore blood purer than her own. She did not know the value of blood or culture here.