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True focus was a stance free of thought, and lilac eyes narrowed slightly, though the muscles there relaxed rather than tensed as he breathed silently with his gaze set upon the man that he would refer to as Master. There were unacceptable amounts of cruelty and violence in the world and what they were doing right now was to Conor a necessity. It had not gone by unnoticed that the greatest warriors owned the most tranquil minds. Cwmfen nic Graine had been a warrior. Onus had been a vigilant guardian and Pendzez Zazkex was a peaceful member of the Valley pack. Conor was born from chaos and raised by violence, but the currents of his mind were rarely rippled by forces lurking under the surface. There was the rage, but it could be controlled. He was stronger than his father.
The position his teacher took on was not new to the young cinnamon male, and Conor followed fluently; curling his hand into a fist and making sure his thumb was not embraced by the four other fingers. He had once been told that otherwise the thumb could be fractured if the punch was hard enough. The young boy did not want to risk such a thing. He found and tightened his muscles; gained control of his entire body. The boy obediently copied the movements of the white adult and let his breath shoot out sharply for each controlled punch. He tried to remember and feel the hips rotate as he punched at the innocent air, confident that his teacher would let him know if he did anything wrong.