"Isn't that the point?" Noss had grown up in a strictly traditional environment, so the statement seemed obvious to him. "The warriors fight, the medics heal, the leaders lead. If the warriors fail in their duty, it is their fault alone that this should happen." Which is why he had been trained so hard, alongside his pack mates--those who had once been under his authority as a chief-to-be, who had once respected him, who had once been his comrades. No more. Realizing, at one time, that he had to leave behind all the trust he had accumulated in a select few and the opportunity to lead a pack had hurt his ego. But he had found a new reason, which buoyed the consequences away, to stay in Cour des Miracles. He would never complain or regret his decisions after he had the resolve to go through with them. "Besides, fighting is not simply learned," he said, which was contrary to most popular belief. "Anyone can learn to wield a weapon or throw a kick. It's how you use it. There are secrets to becoming stronger that can only be learned by someone who chooses the path of the warrior, and none else," the grey warrior said, reiterating the teachings of his mentors in the Crescent Moon Pack. He had not understood, at first, the price and reward of becoming a warrior when he was a pup--not fully. But when he had trained vigorously and hard, and thought that he knew the true way of the warrior, he fought his first true battle, and saw that he had been wrong. The way of the warrior is painted by blood; it is unavoidable. A dark truth that stained his hands he would not wish upon others unless they only showed the deepest resolve. Not everyone could escape the warrior's terror or draw. If the girl simply wanted to learn defense...well, he might not have believed it her duty to learn it at all, still, but he would not fault her for that. No, but he did not see the point in him teaching her. His was a style of wild energy, not defensive pomp. Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks. |
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