Knife to the eye

An ear turned, nose rising dusted in sand, displaced with a snort. It wasn't his mother or father calling, but the message came with clear intent. Ken's tail waved at his back, racing across the sand to where his sister was waiting. He didn't have to gather weapons or companions like others might, and his sister travelled light, her hat and bottles hanging over her hips, birds circling overhead. He skidded to a stop just short of bowling his larger sister over. He didn't need to say he was ready, she'd be able to see it in the shine in his golden eyes, the eager wave of his tail. He'd been fortunate enough to win both his fights in the last raid, he wanted to see if he could keep his streak going.

"speech"