Dawnlark Plains Tûnuck

“Then you run with me. For now,” the ivory glances long between men, mirroring the chieftain’s wording with a voice that dances in affable mien.
“I am Ayovi. We live on the mountain,” she gives no elaboration on ‘we’. It is most logical to broker some sense of peace with these clans, but it is wiser still to guard awareness that it is only herself and her husband on the mountain.
The leader grins. Ayovi allows her tail to sway, face carefully calm as she turns to address the silver who lifts his tail in equal assertion. “Where is your claim?”
She does not see, rather feels the single cold pulse of the band chief as he rakes the fields for her numbers.
She has none.