out of character stuffs
Tharin was a decent hunter. Talented, his father had said. Tharin wasn't so sure of that pack since the famine had struck. He'd struggled bringing in any food at all. If he'd been so grand he should have done better. He was providing good meals for his new pack though. Tail swishing behind him Tharin thought about the members of the pack. He cared for all of them, wanted to help feed them. Well, all except one. The cripple he didn't care for, and wanted him gone. That first bitter impression hadn't faded.
Hunting wasn't the only thing he needed to be able to do though. Two of those he cared for had been attacked, both returning with wounds. Fayne, bleeding in her den, and Kiara, a mother with pups and a torn shoulder. Tharin felt helpless thinking about it. How could he prevent it from happening again? He had to be able to fight off an intruder. Growling he paced the meadow he'd played with Fayne in, thinking about how he was going to do that. Tharin play fought all the time, but it wasn't the same.
Spotting a log Tharin leaped over at it, viciously attacking at it. It helped relieve some of the helpless feeling he had, but Tharin was still unsure how he was going to improve. He wanted to be capable of protecting, and not just someone to care for the attack afterwards.
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