While the pups were still young they had some restrictions. For the most part, they would be stalked day in and day out with a subtle companion guard to keep them safe while giving them some freedom to explore. His and his wife's companions were well accustomed to the job, and he borrowed other companions from trusted wolves. A necessity with the sheer number of pups that had somehow come out of his Wife.

Yawning and stretching joints that popped, the Warlord found one of the younglings playing in the Col and made his way over. “Come” He directed, expecting to be obeyed as he turned and led them from the Col towards the beach. “Today, we are going to work on fighting stances. Think about what parts of you might be especially vulnerable, and label them to me”


"Sirius Fatalis"

Playing was a loose description, sure. He'd been romping about with the others, enjoying the sun and the fresh air. It felt nice to stretch his legs, to roll about in the grass. Still, if dad called, he had to answer. Dread rolled to his feet, shaking the dust from his dark pelt as he righted himself. They were going somewhere else, venturing towards the beach. As the ground beneath his paws went from rocky to sandy, the boy stumbled. His muscles had to work differently on the softer surface, and he slipped and slid slightly as he adjusted. Fighting stances, Seer said. Dread nodded once, pausing to think before answering. "My belly, mostly." He paused for a moment. "With the bits, it's not so bad on my neck, right?" He chose his words carefully as he spoke, though the word crystal eluded him. His belly would be more vulnerable than his neck, his neck had more protection... or something. "And my eyes." Right, there was that to consider as well. He was silent for a moment, mentally scanning his own body. Unable to think of another possibility, he looked to Sirius, expectant.

The Warlord waited patiently. The young wolf was learning everything from the beginning, and he wouldn’t expect the world from him. Instead, hee watched proudly as the young wolf considered carefully before speaking. “The crystals on your neck will offer decent protection” he agreed, stepping forward and tapping the growing scales. It was interesting how they had formed positively in some wolves, and negatively in others. Was Zee’s crystalline fur the reason some of his pups suffered ailments? He would never suggest it outloud to his wife.

“There are other things, like your ears.” he said, flicking a claw lightly to the extremity. “And tail’ which received the same treatment. “There is balance” he added, nudging his shoulder gently into the wolf's side. “Tuck your ears and tail, only flare it behind you when you need the balance. Spread your legs, and dig your toes into the sand” he instructed, waiting to see if the boy complied.


"Sirius Fatalis"

A blessing. A curse. The crystals had been both, within this litter. They'd chosen him, blessed him... when Dread would truly come to understand it all, or understand as much as he could, he'd feel guilty about it. That wouldn't be until much later, and for now, there's pride when it comes to the confirmation from his father. He'd gotten it right, or at least, some of it right. The tap of a claw against his ear had Dread reflexively folding them in as tightly as he could, pinned tightly to his skull. Right, they'd be tender and painful to rip in a fight. His tail, too, pinned to his body as instructed. Only for balance... only for balance? Before he realized it, Dread was staggering just a bit over his paws. It took him an extra half second to recover, using that tail to help regain control over his body. It was already a bit difficult to get his limbs to do exactly what he wanted them to. To catch himself and straighten out? Even more. Still, Dread is able to right his ship. Ears held in tight. Tail tucked. Dread carefully placed his paws in the sand, though the distance between them felt awkward and strange. His nails dug hard into the soft sand, gripping as best he could. Dread's tail wavered, once more serving to steady himself before re-tucking it close to his body. Though he did not open his mouth to complain, he couldn't conceal the effort on his face.

Watching Dread fall into his stance, the Warlord walked a circle around him. Occasionally he would nudge a pup paw slightly, pushing it into a position he liked better. Once he was satisfied with Dread’s stance, he came to a stop in front of the boy. “Good.” He complimented him. “You are going to want this stance to feel familiar to you. Second nature. You’re going to want to be able to fall into it at a moment's notice. At the start of a fight, and as a fight progresses. Pay attention to your body and its weaknesses, and ensure they are addressed at all times” he continued, lecturing the poor pup-victim in front of him.

“To do this, I’m going to mark the spots you're standing” he did so. Drawing around his son's paws with an extended paw. “Relax your position, fall back into it, and repeat. You’re going to do this once a day, every day, until it feels like you were born to his position”


"Sirius Fatalis"

Good. It's the approval that would keep him going. It's the approval that would always keep him going. Dread needs it. He thrives on it, at least in his young age. A tender state for a young man, and here he stands before his father. He stands before his father as so many of his siblings have, before him. So many of them have been trained beneath the Warlord... would Dread be among the last? He doesn't know it yet. There's no way for him to know. Bathed in golden sunlight, all he can do is hang on Seer's every word. A circle around each paw. Targets for him to hit, to mark. Each time Dread hit those targets, it would feel more natural. His balance would improve bit by bit, right? He was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. He listens intently as Seer speaks, offering a singular nod. Once a day, as an instruction, is lost on him. Dread vows here that this will be his new default. This will be the way he stands at rest, at least until it's comfortable. Once it's comfortable? Hopefully then, it will be second nature. Once it's second nature, well, would he need anything else? Likely not. With intensity in his eyes, Dread looks to Seer and nods once. Understanding. From the spot he stands he takes a few steps, turns as tight a circle as he can manage. From there, to postured and ready. Dread moves into, and out of the stance in turn. Gradually it becomes less clumsy, though he still wobbles over floppy puppy joints. At least he's learning.

The Warlord leaned back and watched his son. Eyes flicking across his movements as Dread stepped in and out of the fighting stance. The Warlord occasionally made a small correction here or there, flicking a paw behind Dread’s knee until it was bent in the way he wanted. Until at last he was satisfied that Dread would be able to find this stance again on his own. So that he could practise it until it felt natural and instinctive to his body.

After a moment, Sirius placed a paw over Dread’s littler one “Enough” he said softly. “Remember the stance, and practice it in your own time. Now, we are moving on to attacks. I want you to consider what you can reach on my body, and what you think would be vulnerable. List them” he instructed.


"Sirius Fatalis"