Vizier by Dadavay
Bad English. I know. Translator.

This is a tricky idea: it could work. But it’s no use now; I want to talk to you,” said a zebra of medium height, dressed in a skirt of leather stripes that descends to the knees, as well as a mask carved from the skull of some lizard, completely hiding its muzzle.
The stranger appeared right between the two guards, unlike the other mares - she stood proudly with her back straight and shoulders squared, and her hands folded under her impressive breasts with large dark nipples. Her mane was arranged in a comb, bracelets of bone and metal were on her neck and wrists, and a stone knife and a twisted whip hung from her belt. However, the eyes that attracted the most attention were those that could be seen in the slits of the mask, which did not have pupils and irises.
“Blind?” a thought flashed through Lime Hoof’s mind.
“How did she get to us so unnoticed?”, blinking in bewilderment, Bigfoot lowered his gaze from the frightening eyes to his chest, where a crystal translator hung on a thin chain in a deep hollow (which explained why the savage woman spoke their language).
Have you chewed your tongues, or are you tired of talking together? - the zebra, with its immobility resembling a statue carved from black and white stone, depicted discontent in a voice. - If you decide to be silent, then I won’t wait any longer: we go further into the field during the day, because we need the will to live. If there is no use from outsiders… There are no fools among the tribe.
“In other words: if you don’t talk, we’ll kill and forget,” the flier stated, considering his further behavior.
I’m sorry, dear… - Bigfoot decided to take the initiative. - Who are you, exactly?
You, a foreigner, are very impudent, even if you are small compared to your friend, - this time the mare’s words sounded satisfied, as if she had previously doubted that the crystal was working properly. - The mentor named Morra, and I became a shaman of the tribe. From now on, my word is subject to everything I want.