Kiitani, the bird woman now bows her head, ready to accept her death, as the wolf before her. Her hand upon his stilled chest, blood welled beneath her fingers, paling them in comparison. It beaded and ran in thick riverlets, as she pressed into the cooling flesh. She was afraid, and trembled in her fear. She hurt in her heart for her Nation. She hurt in her chest for herself. She was mortal and knew she was mortal...<br/><br/>The men only laughed and pulled her hood back from her head, exposing her wild black hair, tangled with beads and grasses. One still had more animal in him then the other, he turned to see Draekin rushing to them and raised his weapon. Part of him remembered this wolf as the Beta of the pack, his pretty steel colored pelt stained in shadows, fire and blood. The Man in him was afraid, as man fears beasts who can kill. He stands at ready, crouched down with his spear held at an angel. He wants to strike out and kill this wolf, and wear his pelt.