Although he could fight surprisingly well, battle was clearly not one of Macer's interests. He had been taught how to defend himself, but he had only needed those skills on a few occasions, all of them little more than minor scrabbles with unthinking trespassers. When he fought, he used his teeth and claws to gouge his opponent, never such sophisticated weapons as the daggers and sword which Alaki impressively wore. Macer was trying not to stare at the silver instruments, though is eyes darted toward them several times as he wondered how in the hell Alaki could make them work in his hands for killing.
The spotted wolfdog shrugged broad shoulders. Yeah, I guess so, he agreed, sporting a soft grin through the dark beast's mild sarcasm. But sometimes I get so into it, I don’t really know where the paint is going. I usually get a painting out of it, though. He had one or two failed pieces on white cloth saved in his den. They were amusing to look at, and the boy liked to compare them to his successes when he needed inspiration.
Mace finally tore the last chunk of paint from his coat, taking a few white hairs along with it, and rubbed the sting out of his skin with cool water before answering the Angelo. My cave wall. I just finished something I’ve been working on for a couple weeks, explained the boy with pride.