Silvano smiled during the handshake, and giddy pleasure warmed Skoll’s belly; the look on the man’s face was like that of acceptance, or at least the boy guessed. Despite his self-confidence, the boy was overeager to receive praise from others, spoken or not. He desperately wanted to live up to the expectations of a king’s son, and while his idolization of his father had died down from its obsessive and overcompensating levels, he was still very much proud of whom he was. Now that Liam had gone, he felt like he was the oldest remaining son and special because of it, with a lot more responsibility on his shoulders to do well.
The other shrugged at his question and explained that he’d come from Crimson Dreams, the former neighbors of the Kingdom. Ginger ears fell back into his messy mane, and he remembered feeling sick and sad at the thought of the pack just disappearing. “You knew Alder’s family, then?” Skoll asked, almost timidly. He’d liked Oak a lot, and the thought that the Marshall’s brother was now out there probably without a home made him sad. He tried to hide how upset he was, though, facing the horses again suddenly. Other young canines might get emotional, but he was a prince, and he was going to be a great warrior someday, so he couldn’t afford that.
Following the Sadira’s gesture, the creamy wolfdog smiled again. “She is,” he said, hiding the boastfulness behind his words; he was very proud that he was the first of his siblings to get a horse, even if all of them seemed to have an affiliation with the creatures. “Her name’s Hwin. She came from Cercatori d’Arte and was a gift. Alder taught me how to take care of her and ride her.” His tail gave a few flourishing wags at the thought.
I can go the distance.
I will face the world:
fearless, proud and strong.
I will please the gods;
I can go the distance,
till I find my hero's welcome,
right where I belong.
Image courtesy of Stuck in Customs
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