Silvano turned toward him with a slight smile, and Skoll looked down at the sandy ground, shifting his foot. He’d gotten along well with the man while all they had to discuss were lighthearted topics, like horses, but he hoped now that that wouldn’t change; he just didn’t know what he was supposed to do, and he wasn’t used to submitting to anyone but his father. He hoped that the Sadira wasn’t the type of leader to demand such shows, though, and that politeness and respect was enough; the boy could muster that up without difficulty since he did respect the warrior.
He nodded when Silvano explained he had a lot of reasons for the daggers, remembering vaguely that the war with the Tribe had involved Crimson Dreams as well as his own pack. He hadn’t known anything about allies back then, though, only that AniWaya was the bad guy and that there was fighting somewhere and that his daddy hadn’t come home for a long time. It was strange to think of the conflict in such detached terms, more hearsay than actual gut emotion, while its veterans still walked around.
“A sword, huh?” the blond boy repeated, and couldn’t help but grin slightly at the thought of such a long blade. He’d always liked hearing about the swords knights wielded in the stories, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle one on his own. It was easier to just control his own body and his own strength instead of balancing an additional few feet of steel; he’d end up wielding a sword like a big stick and never purposefully cut anything. He decided to voice this opinion aloud for conversation’s sake. “Everything would be too heavy for me; I like teeth and claws.”
Mention of his mother drowned the silly smile on his face, and his ears went back as his green gaze found the ground again. “She’s—” He hesitated, not wanting to speak the words, but he forced himself to answer the Constable. “No, not any better, I don’t think.” He shook his great shaggy head and unsheathed his claws, gesturing at the dummies. “I came here to train. I need to get better.”
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