Lion Head Mesa Covered in gold, forgetting my skin

Crowfeather was dazed, hissing Sihaya’s name and looking all about. Suddenly, a crone barged in with a bark and the Mazoi recognized her as the Ursus medic who treated his dying comrade. She was skilled as she was boorish – her coarse tone demanded answers promptly. The soldier, on the other hand, seemed more level headed and introduced himself as captain of the guard.

Sihaya looked to the doctor with a slow turn of his head, staccato gaze moving across her face. He was not nettled by her accusatory tone, but stared for longer than a normal wolf would.

He turned back to the soldier just as slowly. “It is a pleasure, Germanicus,” he said with a small curl of his lips, ignoring the woman as if she wasn’t even in the room at all. “We shall be on the battlefield together, then,” he said with a raise of his brow. Out of all the wolves he had seen in the Mesa, this one was most battle-ready. He looked a brawny man with the handsome ruggedness of an outrider.

“I stopped by to see Crowfeather’s condition,” he told the general. “We will make the dogs who did this pay,” A hollow smile – something dark happening behind the eyes.

Crowfeather struggled to eat the mice. Sihaya frowned. “Shouldn’t you have… chewed those for him? He could..." Sihaya paused, looking back to Slate. "Choke."