The coyote woman could have been intrigued by this strange sight, the patchwork coyote before her. It appeared he'd fallen, and someone had taken the time and effort to piece him back together again. The coyote woman did not wish to meet such a doctor or surgeon who could accomplish this feat; though certainly it was a miracle by canine standards of medicine, the simple-minded, marred creature it had created certainly left something to be desired. Kaena was no beautiful thing, this was certain, but even she found the other canine's stitching almost grotesque. The other coyote appeared to be a walking corpse and nothing more; his face was all skin and bones, his body seemed frail and on the razor edge of starvation. He seemed frangible, as if the slightest smack from her paw might shatter him to pieces again.
At the coyote's speech, the hybrid's growl again sounded, her lips pulling back further in frustration at the strange creature that had showed up on their borders. He must have had some vague form of common sense, else he could've ended up on Dahlia de Mai's borders, and at their present state of affairs with canis latrans in general, this patchwork creature would have been torn to bloody pieces already. She took a step forward and swiped a forepaw at him roughly, aiming to bat him on the head. The silver-furred Centurion was hardly afraid of him; he was practically a waif already, and she might have outweighed him by forty pounds. "You have to earn your skulls around here," she stated, speaking slower now, enunciating each word carefully. Maybe speaking to him like she would speak to a child would help him understand; these were not his to take. "Maybe if you can send a few wolf heads rolling, you can have one," she added. There wasn't much point in taking him in, as Kaena saw it—maybe if these weren't more desperate times she might have turned him away for the simple fact that he appeared to be rather useless; however, wartimes certainly called for different tactics, and Kaena knew some coyotes were good for dying.
"You do what I want? You can have it," she said, a little meanness entering her voice as she leaned a bit closer to him, her golden eye roving over him, settling on his tail. She still hadn't figured out that little piece of morbidity yet. "What's your name?"
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