The Warlord and his adopted daughter strolled in silence for a time down the familiar Armada beachline. Hazel had flourished in the Armada. She had been a scrawny scrappy babe whose parents had abandoned her. In the Armada she had grown into a capable young woman, with ambitions and dreams. He was hers. And if her parents ever returned for her, they would find only the Warlord's teeth. They had thrown her away, they did not deserve her.

He broke the silence when Marshal dove in front of them, catching something near the surface of the ocean and winging impressively back to the sky. “If I’m not mistaken your first birthday is approaching. At the turn of the season, when morning frost touches the plains.” He mused thoughtfully, looking over at the young girl.


"Sirius"

A different girl than the one that had turned up in the Armada many months ago. She was capable now, competent, and could hold her own. Still scrawny in comparison to many of the other pups (especially her best friend, who seemed to be too big for his own good damnit), but strong too. Not sickly. Not starving. There was care and attention that had been put into the red and pale girl, and it was... enough. It was more than enough. Though there would always be a certain, strange kind of damage beneath the surface (Hazel's separation anxiety would only become clear in time), there were just as many good things. Above all, Hazel clings to Sirius.

The shoreline, the Plain, it was all so familiar to her now. This was her home. She could race up and down this beach, high tide or low, with her eyes closed and probably have only a 40% chance of going ass over teakettle. The Armada is familiar, is safe, is all the things that Hazel can hold dear. Not only is it her present, but it's her future too-- she's sure of it. Ambition can be both innocent and fierce, and every day she manages to embody that. Every day she's trying, trying her absolute best. Marshal puts on a display when Sirius speaks, breaking the companionable silence between them. Her first birthday, right, it would be soon. "We were born during the first and worst snowstorm of last year, a real bad blizzard." Her words were soft, and it's rare that Hazel speaks of her blood. Green eyes remain on Marshal, trying to prevent herself from going too far away.

"'Lis too, right? Er, in the winter, I mean." The thought had picked up somewhere in the middle, making the connection that he was probably winterborn as well. It's a strange sameness that strings together those born into the harshest season, though they may not always know it. The red string of fate has them all tied together, even if the ways don't always make sense right away.

"Speech"

The Warlord inclined his head at this proof of his suspicion. She was very close in age to Basilisk. This child of his would reach her first year in only a matter of days, perhaps weeks. It was difficult to pinpoint such things exactly. “You don’t speak of your first family often. Do you miss them?” He asked, voice just as soft.

He let his paws crunch sand for a moment quietly beneath him before he spoke again. “That’s right, Basilisk is a winter child as well.” he agreed. crunch, crunch of sand beneath titan paws, and the littler ones of the child beside him. “Is there something you would like for your first birthday, Hazel?” he asked softly. He had always tried to pick out something memorable and personal for his children on their first birthday. He did have a thought in mind for Hazel, but he wanted to hear her thoughts as well.

"Sirius"

Sirius's words ring in her hears, and Hazel thinks for a long moment. Did she miss them? Her father, not at all. He'd been a nasty, volatile man, with a foul temper and a foul mouth. Her siblings... they hadn't been close. Hazel stood out like a sore thumb among them. She was too much. Too loud. Too brash. Too... much of a pain in the ass. Whatever. It was really no matter, because they were gone now, they weren't going to give her shit anymore. And then there were thoughts of her mother. Oh. Her gaze drifted, something far away. "Sometimes I worry about my Ma... everyone was too hard on her, I think." It's hard for her to really assemble the memories, but shit Hazel's dad did a lot of yelling, and her mother did seem to take the brunt of his aggressions.

Hazel is grateful for the change of subject, coming back down to earth after a moment. Her tail wagged loosely at her haunches, stepping beside Sirius with her easy gait. Though it seemed for every one of his steps, there were two of hers, she didn't have such a hard time keeping up anymore. In all her time here, she'd grown. Though that growth may have initially been stunted by malnutrition, and she'd maybe lost an inch or two for it, you'd never be able to tell. She's growing into something capable. "Would you help me make something for him? Something nice?" After all, the pair had spent some time fashioning all sorts of makeshift armor and jewelry for each other, including the somewhat lumpy friendship bracelet that Hazel was awfully proud of, but this needed to be something special. Something really special. It was thanks to Basilisk, really, that Hazel had seen her second year at all.

The Warlord's question gives her pause, though. For all her thinking, Hazel had never thought about... wanting something. At least something material. Softly, the red and pale girl hmmd to herself. A long consideration. It's a few long moments before she speaks. "I'd like more responsibility. More training... I want to be the General some day, and I want to learn how to get there." Her green eyes danced over to the Warlord for a moment. There was a strange relentlessness to the girl, something that had cropped up since her spar with Azure. There was a way that he looked at her, like he didn't take her seriously. Hazel wanted to prove the second alpha, and everyone like him, wrong. She'd show them all.

"Speech"