Once Sabine leaned over Peiter, she would easily be able to tell that he had ran through a thornbush. He had several cuts and scrapes across his stomach and legs, along with a few thorns that had detached and were still sticking out of him. While painful, this normally would not have elicited such a reaction from him. He was accustomed to dealing with such minor injuries, after all. However, he had left the camp in a rush before grabbing his loincloth, something that he was now regretting immensely. The fact that he was curled in a ball with his hands held precariously over his groin left little question as to the source of his pain. 

"Ow, ow, I, uh...it's not dangerous. But...ahhh. Why am I such an idiot?" Peiter began. He was  breathing rather heavily, gritting his teeth and looking up at Sabine with eyes that were quickly watering. "It was a...thornbush. And...ahh."

"My parents were from Kvatch, but I'm from Riverhold." Vilana answered. "It's not often that an Imperial citizen willingly moves to the Dominion, but the draw of profit is a strong one, I suppose. I've lived in Elsweyr my whole life, I just ended up moving south later on. As for the lycans here, I guess there's just more variety here than in Bruma. I can't say I've ever met a werecrocodile before. We have some Argonians in our clan, but I don't think most of them are even from Black Marsh. I'm not entirely, sure though. There aren't many, and I've only, um, spoken to one of them. But, he was a werelion, not to mention a low-down, good-for-nothing, colorblind scoundrel." She said, baring her teeth almost reflexively as she thought back. "He was a womanizer about twice as bad as you describe your pack alpha, but just good enough at sweet-talking a drunk woman to sound enticing. I don't think he's with us anymore, though, so you don't have to worry about him."