Ithiel is by me!
Ithiel nodded -- it was as he expected. Few in Inferni knew how to fight these wolves, and he amongt them, was inexperienced at best. Scintilla had trained him and prepared him, but it had not made him a war-hardened general. He was vulnerable and susceptible to beginner's mistakes, as many were. The best he might hope for was that his own training made such mistakes less likely. His own opponent had fought with bow and crossbow, and thus they had been evenly matched. Against a wolf with a sword, spear, or anything with melee capabilities and just a bit of reach, however, Ithiel did not think he would fare much better than his fellow Infernians. We were not prepared, and we still are not. Their armor and weapons... we cannot match that, the man said, shaking his angled head from side to side. There was an expression on his face almost like a grimace, and he regarded her with those fiery eyes. None of us.
The dust-colored hybrid studied the wounds on her, the markings of battle he himself bore. I will teach you what I know, he said, simply, reaching across his body to pluck his knife from its sheath along his upper arm. He held it out to her, blade first. Now? the gesture seemed to prompt. Ithiel did not believe in optimal conditions for training: he himself had trained in the bitter cold, the blistering heat, and all manner of other weather types. Nighttime was just another of the scenarios in which an attacker might threaten the clan, and Alma and all the rest should be prepared to face such a challenge, should it come to pass.
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