Haunted Wood find me where the wild things are

the warlord steps smoothy beside her general, gaze tracing the line of her swollen stomach a moment before falling onto the newcomer, tail arches and auds pressed forward. she'd caught the last of her words, and all of serem's. fighting was not one of the skills she'd offered, and in the past, a mandatory one. but the yearling had come to find that carrying on the tradition of the first spar, and accepting only those with an affinity for fighting made the group as a whole more volatile. and that only bode poorly for herself, and the position she'd seized. 

a scan confirmed that she was fit, healthy, and if she spoke truly, she would be useful. if not -- the melonii had no qualms on turning fang to her and running her out. but the reality of it was that they needed more bodies. "it suffices. welcome." a dip of her muzzle solidifies her consent.