The importance of battle training was a high priority for the Warlord. The Fatalis family had made a name for themselves, and with that came enemies and opportunists alike. He would ensure that every one of his children received fight training. Some were more enthusiastic about the opportunity than others. But the Warlord was relentless, he would choose a pup at random, regardless of their preferences, and drag them away.

He chose his victim today by the firepit, walking towards the youngling and tapping a paw to their shoulder. “Follow” he ordered the little wolf, turning and expecting them to follow as he led them towards an open space in the Col. “We are going to work on our stances today, ready?”



"Sirius Fatalis"

If Crux had any sort of grasp of irony yet, he probably would have realized the situation was about to be very ironic. The small boy knew he wasn't a fighter, he'd figured that out pretty quickly when he'd found it harder than his siblings to wrestle, his crystalline cuffed leg was awkward and heavy and harder to move than his other limbs. It made him a liability when his siblings wanted to play tussle, it made him slower, and it made him easier to knock over when his balance was still so new. Even his sisters didn't struggle to move the way he did, and even as a pup it frustrated him. But it was easier to acknowledge he wasn't going to be a real contender in fights, that he'd probably always be more vulnerable in that way than to try and force himself into something his body would never let him be.

So he wasn't exactly excited by the idea of training, he knew he needed to, probably more than any of his other siblings because of his leg but well. He was a child and easily frustrated still, and though he would one day look back on his training and be grateful for it that didn't mean he felt that way now! Still he followed after his father dutifully, some part of him hopefully excited that they'd get up to something fun together, just him and dad... But he also knew his father had been taking his siblings away for fighting training... It was probably not going to work for him...

And it didn't. Sirius lead him to an open area in the col and instructed him that today was stance training. Crux wasn't yet good at hiding his inner thoughts, that would come soon enough but for now, the little boy's crestfallen expression was plain to see, but still, he nodded, awkwardly maneuvering himself into what he thought was a pretty good defensive stance all things considered. It probably would have been amateurish at best for a pup his age, motor control wasn't exactly fine-tuned yet after all but it looked downright lopsided when he did it. His forelegs were spread wider than his shoulders, his left hindleg at least in line with his hips but he hadn't exactly managed to get his right to match, instead, it jutted out to his right, his paw not even flat on the ground instead tilted to the left with his paw held in it's permanently flexed position.

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Art by Twonahalfer

The Warlord took note of the crestfallen expression of his boy. It was especially important that Crux grasped what he could of these skills. That he learned enough to protect himself once he was grown, and out in the world. He gave his son a gentle pat on his right shoulder. “We will work on your forms, and then I’ll take you to the beach and teach you to fish” he promised the boy. Fishing required stillness and patience, and perhaps it would be a hobby the boy with a limp might enjoy.

Without prompting, Crux moved his body into a stance that could resemble a fighting stance, with some patience and work. The Warlord stepped up in front of him, towering over the young boy. “First, I want you to think about the things that will make you vulnerable. Things that would be easy to grab, and hold, or affect your balance. List them for me” He instructed. He wanted to encourage Crux to think about the training. He didn’t expect to get all the right answers straight off the bat.

"Sirius Fatalis"

Being taken to do fishing instead certainly helped to soothe the boy's anxiety about the training, it was comforting to know his father could understand why he was reluctant to do fighting training. Crux tried to hold his position but the shifting of the sands under paws already less balanced than they otherwise might be and he felt his cuffed leg sliding and Crux decided he'd rather give up his position before he fell flat on the sands. So as his father asked him to think about what parts of himself he should take care to protect Crux pulled himself back to a more comfortable neutral position. His head tilting to the side as he thought on the question.

"Back of my neck..." He started to answer, he was thinking of all the times he or his siblings had been scruffed by their parents in their short lives and he could already imagine how embarrassing it would be to be scruffed by an opponent. As for things that'd be easy to grab or affect his balance? Well that was easy. "I also probably want to avoid having my tail grabbed... And my leg." Crux started confidently enough but as he thought about his leg, awkwardly angled even at a more relaxed position as the sand didn't really support it very well, he grew a bit more demure and dropped his gaze, trying to pull his cuffed leg back into line with his hips as if to hide it.

No doubt there were things he'd missed, the boy wasn't fearless, far from it, but his own mortality was absolutely a foreign concept to him and so his more vulnerable softer areas were completely missed in his assessment of his weaknesses, instead the most obvious list was made of experiences he's already dealt with. His leg, getting scruffed and all the times his tail had been yanked in play with his siblings.

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Art by Twonahalfer

The Warlord nodded his head, watching quietly as the boy struggled to get his leg in line. Watching how easily it slid out from under him left the Warlord considering. The more he observed his son, the more he would consider the problem and work on solutions through the nights. The Warlord loved to craft, and thinking of ways to support his son already had his mind moving.

“To protect your neck, you scrunch it, tuck your head, and make it a little harder to grab” he explained, demonstrating by lowering his head and then pulling it back. “Your tail you should tuck any time you don’t need to flare it behind you for balance” he continued, getting to his paws as he began to walk around his son. “Dig your claws into the sand for balance, tuck your ears, and narrow your eyes. Make those vulnerable points harder to grab or injure”

"Sirius Fatalis"

His father started to explain how to protect the vulnerable parts of himself and Crux obediently tried to do as Sirius explained, pulling his head back slightly and then lowering his skull so his chin was tucked to his chest. He tucked his tail tight but still found the sand to be unstable and as he wobbled let his tail flag out behind him, finding a sweet spot with it to help him keep his balance and despite himself he smiled a little bit, understanding what it was that his father was teaching. He spread his toes, feeling the sand shift under his paws for a moment before the top layer mostly shifted away to a harder, cooler, wetter layer beneath and he tried to imagine what a solid grip would feel like. Finally, he pulled his ears back and narrowed his eyes, feeling his lips curl as he did so.

It felt- Well it felt like instinct, some deeper part of himself recognized this all and his balance shifted slightly so that his stance was a little more stable, and his knees bent slightly. Then the feeling was gone and Crux felt a little silly but he didn't immediately abandon his position, waiting for further instruction from his father.

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Art by Twonahalfer