My skin is a story [o, sparring]

[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width: 45%; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; letter-spacing: -1px;"]Vathmos had gotten used to her companions, more or less. She wouldn't make the stretch yet to call them her [abbr=family]famayilyeh[/abbr] yet, but... she considered a few to be friends. She was growing used to the lion brothers, and the panthers- she found herself surrounded by several different big cats and creatures of all manners. Did this make her normal amoung them? She was ostracized and exiled for her own difference. That was just how t was, it secured the bloodline and the unity of the tribe, it kept everything in line. She wondered if this diversity made them stronger or weaker if this was a clan of outcasts like her, or something else. They seemed to like each other, and everyone got along. It... unnerved her, in a way. No one was fighting among each other or for scrapes, no one challenged Crow for his leadership (yet?).
She had never had a male leader before, either. Males were nearly always beneath the females in Hyena tribes, and the strongest female gained the postition through violence. So now being under one... she pulled her lip back at the thought. At least she didn't have to eat after him. That was too much of an insult to Vathmos.
The hyena raised herself up, padding out of her shady area of the camp, sniffing the area, and beginning to make a beeline towards where the prey was kept.

//please don't ask Vathmos to spar, she is to spar with wormwood