Word Count - 320 :: Sorry for the wait! D: Hope this is okay!
It was common for Skoll to visit the training area, at least if he wasn’t patrolling frantically or lurking worriedly in his injured mother’s room. He wanted to be physically powerful, as if that could make up for the emotional wreck he was turning into, as if it would make him strong enough to fight off all the darkness that could possibly threaten Cour des Miracles. He fought often against the wooden dummies, sometimes leaping in and gnawing at the bases in his four-legged forms, other times pummeling them with fist and foot, giving them such abuse that he was surprised they didn’t break; though these times he usually broke first, going home with bloody knuckles or a torn claw.
At any rate, it wasn’t surprising that even today the young wolfdog would head toward the little clearing, his green eyes burning with an unfocused resolve and his nails digging into his palm pads. He paused as he reached the edge of the training area, a shaft sticking out of the bushes catching his eye. He pulled the arrow free from the foliage and gripped it thoughtfully before the sound of wood striking wood made his ears prick and his feet propel him onward.
Despite his recently dark mood, Skoll had to grin as he saw the large Pyrenees handle the thick fighting staff, wielding it with surprising grace against the dummy target. It really did look like a tree trunk for its size and evident power, and he almost lost himself to just watching. Once he saw a brief lull in the training, however, he took advantage to walk forward and hold up the arrow.
“I believe this is yours, sir,” the sun-colored prince told the older dog, smiling. He shook his head as he stared at the staff, one that dwarfed the size of the one his reddish half-sister fought with. “That thing really is handy, isn’t it?”
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