If there were a god of fatigue, it had no hold upon Skoll Haskel. Even when the boy’s full-grown body grew haggard and threatened to collapse with exhaustion, his mind bulldozed forward out o f determination and duty and spite. And it was spite as much as everything else that pushed him ever onward: spite toward the monsters lurking far too close to home, toward his swiftly changing fate, toward the weakness within himself. He was still seen as a boy despite his rank and ambition, and he needed to change that, to find what was holding him back and tear through it like teeth ripping rope.
He’d rested his body today, but that was only in anticipation for the torture he’d be putting it through. His gait more like that of a werewolf than a dog prince, he loped toward the training area where he’d gotten into a fistfight was Hati. That was just one facet of the great Change rolling over the Court, and he knew it was silly to bicker with his shadowy brother when there were dangers to bring them together. His mother had been attacked, and there was a new Constable, and God knew what would happen next.
The sound of wood being abused caused him to prick his ears, and he froze as he saw the lean brown Sadira going at the dummies, slashing with twin daggers, something burning in his emerald gaze that made Skoll think of his own desperate feelings. He watched until the imaginary foe was slain, and a tension he hadn’t been aware of drained from his muscles. He shook his great shaggy head then stepped forward, his eyes flitting curiously over the ornate dagger before they dropped respectfully upon reaching the Constable.
“Silvano, I—uh—you’re really good with those,” Skoll mumbled, gesturing childishly at the blades. He’d been skeptical of his sudden ascent at the start of the tumultuous meeting, but in part because of all the disrespect from the other members and the sudden conviction that the former Dreamer would try had changed his stance. Even now, seeing the man fight so well against the dummies, he knew he’d put his faith in the right place. This, this protective ferocity and strength, was what the vulnerable pack needed.
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