The battles that Fendros, Uthri, and Gallus had witnessed before had their fair share of gore. They had seen limbs hanging by threads, organs spilled from cut bellies, bodies contorted in various ways, even Fendros and Ahnasha had their own horrid experience in torture. The scene before them, however, could not have been tempered completely by all of those memories. Never had they seen a werewolf's arm brutally torn off at the shoulder. The sounds of the flesh and bone, along with the howling pain made it hard to watch, much less listen to. Nevertheless, the fight was over. Meesei could not have made it clearer who the real champion was, such was the custom of Hircine's hounds.

"Irenya," Gallus turned his wolfish head to the Dunmer, now unconcerned by the soldiers. He nodded in the impostor's direction. "Keep her alive. Let Meesei worry about the clan."

The words were the only immediate ones from the group. The entire space was bereft of any speech after the display.

[hr]
[i]"Mm, getting out of this heat will be a relief,"[/i] Tzirret agreed, [i]"Hopefully the Orcrest clan live in caverns in those hills, like home. Those would be cooler than out here."[/i]

Some moments passed where there was no apparent movement in the conversation. Tzirret didn't really have much more to add himself, so he laid back with a smile and tried to create a magical light again. He had succeeded in making a weak, flickering light and was trying to refine it, but the novelty of showing it off had faded days ago. Now it was just practice.

[i]"Um, Ma'tanza?"[/i] Tzirret began curiously, lifting his head from the ground slightly. He seemed a little nervous again, but he knew he wasn't going to find a spare moment with her alone to ask. [i]"Did you want to...watch the sunset from the top of one of those hills tonight? If there is no sandstorm, of course."[/i]