And i will walk on water

Anatole Aston · 03-19-2012, 01:00 PM

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Living in the northlands had given Anatole an advantage in winter. He knew the ways of survival, and this was why his reinforced view of nature, red of tooth and claw, continued on. AniWaya was forcing him to reevaluate these views. The strength of the pack was the wolf, and the strength of the wolf was the pack—he had to remember these things in order to exist with others. They were only as strong as their weakest link, and as he would learn in time, some of these things would be cut to remove the fat and the soft edges of their Tribe.

The dark wolf slowed, and pointed to a patch of ice with several cracks in it. It was apparent that this was a weak patch; the color was much darker than that around them. “Keep in mind that ice like this,”“Is dangerous to us as well. It won’t hold our weight.” These lessons were ones he hoped the boy already knew, but it did not hurt to repeat them. “Now, watch,” the scout went on.

He extended his arms, curling his hands into compressed versions of their shape. His claws were not extended, but his elbows had locked up. The movement was sharp and sudden; he reared up, kept his arms fixed, and then slammed his hands into the ice. At first, this did not break it completely, but the ice cracked wider. A second blow finally had him touch water, though he pulled away quickly enough to only dampen his hands. Satisfied, he looked to the boy. If the hole in the ice was not wide enough, it was now his duty to try and do the same.

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