Golden Glade rocky training montage

atoztli's ears thrust forward, gaze crossed by steel. this was not how it all was supposed to work. she was supposed to be back at home, consecrating totems with her mother. not this.

what was she doing here? no, such question was better served lobbed to the masked marauder. que estas haciendo aqui? she repeated back, mistrustful and wary.

as the oilspill of a wolf steps forward, atoztli stepped back with her ears pinned to her skull. last time they had come to blows, atoztli could not even describe what happened. her gaze flickered to the forgotten meal, a lurch in her stomach announcing the long draw of hunger settling within her belly.