guns for hands

Mere minutes later the midnight-painted female was panting louder than ever. Her chest rumbled back and forth, gasping and panting while her tongue rolled over her teeth. Another few seconds later Spectra had lost the battle to the fatigue as her energy knew limits and boundaries. Slowly she dragged her body away from the place where they just dug. Her legs were still trembling softly and it took all of her willpower not to fall down the ground right here and now. Instead she stood there, contently watching the fruits of their labor.

In the meantime, 'Sop began to rant; she wondered whether he was tired too. And whether or not the strange language was a sign of being fatigue. Her muzzle closed suddenly, she would not began to speak gibbers. "Y'okay, Sop, buddy buddy?" With about the attention span of a goldfish, she hadn't paid much attention to what else he was ranting on about. 'Sounds like gibberish!" French, that is. "What are you trying to say?" She was definitely interested.