[center][h1][color=FFEC3C]Dune[/color][/h1][hr][hr][/center]

[sup][url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-MT9Y72ChDpUrg_BDiDsC4IjXWtqYAXix3VM1yoVsf8/edit]The Old Tongue[/url][/sup]
      Dune had listened to the many conversations while stood outside, taking in the sights. He didn't understand any of the Hindwalker languages, but liked to listen to the patterns in their voices. Some were quiet, others were deep, and others were just plain loud. A couple of conversations sounded like one big slurr of words, even more nonsense than what Hindwalkers normally said.

      He had been so caught up in conversation that he hadn't noticed the big crowd joining outside the tavern. He centered his line of sight on the cause of the commotion - the Hindwalker he'd met earlier was now joined by many others, and seemed to be fighting them. Suddenly, one of them was thrown his way. Dune caught him with a growl, throwing him into a wall.

     "[color=FFEC3C]Anub j'o yaim! Anub j'o ol do troid![/color]"

     He walked over to the group, shifting into a Wolf and leaping over the crowd. He growled at the opposing Hindwalkers, his lips locked into a snarl.

      "[color=FFEC3C]Oe pav![/color]"

      Dune dived at one of them, claws extended, intent on bloodlust. He didn't care who these Hindwalkers were, all he knew is that they were attacking the one he had met for no reason. This was not acceptable. His Pack had long ago been murdered in cold blood, so it didn't seem right that someone else should suffer the same fate. Snapping back to the present, he readied himself to rip the Hindwalker's neck apart.