The twinge he feels at the loss of the brave warrior and the balance-aware pinkskin does not surprise him.
The pack is split.
Glancing to the small wiry pinkskin, he turns to the hairy one on his arm:
"Poison, he is. Rest. Medicine. Find, we must "
The pack is split. The Others are lost..
*On hearing the voices, he bares his fangs and stretches out one claw hand as he shields Thokk with the other side of his body*
Sethra WILL die. Those pinkskins who died were no lesser than lizardkin..