You take a long cold stare at this “friend” of Sahiron’s.. a Tlikæ… You can see the glint of metal behind the spidersilk hood. Bionic of course. Not to be trusted. You feel your breath inhale and you fight your natural impulse to growl. Instead you clench your jaw as your mood darkens. Across the distance, you see the Sketh abrubtly cut off their conversation. Their posture straightens and you see their nose test the air. The shadowy hood swings slowly around and the bones in your chest become ice. You stand for a moment, not daring to breathe. The bionic glint of their metallic eyes flashes in the sun. The hair on the back of your neck leaps to attention. A low rumble flows deep from your throat, unbidden.
