...
She was grateful that he had not asked any details about the fight, and her lie by omission could continue. Ezekiel and Emmanuelle surely had seen her running at some point, but she didn't want to deal with the awkwardness that would ensure if she told anyone else how she dealt with the problem.
We were not prepared, and we still are not. Their armor and weapons... we cannot match that, none of us.
The coyote returned his grim words with a stare, not sure of what to say to that. She could say something hopeful, but it was a lie. She had seen the enemy and what they had as well as he did, and couldn't make that falsehood pass her lips. Alma settled with a nod, rather than a verbal reply.
The orange coyote took the knife from him. She inspected it, turning it over in her paws. Mentally, she was comparing it to the knife she'd gained from the battle. At this moment, she couldn't tell a difference. With bows she could tell the type of wood and the shape, and thus how far or how well it might shoot, but this weapon was entirely foreign to her.
She gripped the knife in her paw, and looked up at Ithiel with a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. It wasn't that it was the wrong time or place, it was that she didn't know how or where to start - then again, that was what he was there for.
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