Healer, Healer, Fight For Me.

So, it was time to start Solveiga’s training in the basics of fighting. He felt she’d had time to settle in, get to know or at least meet some of the pack, and she’d seemed settled enough any time he’d peeked in on her before turning in for the night, or the day, and now, he stretched lengthily, each limb extending until it quivered and a shiver ran down his spine in a soft ”Brr!” of pleasure before he trotted out of the ravine. It was a bright, clear morning, dew sparkling on the browned, winter deadened grasses of the Plains, and as he trotted across the vast expanse, toward the meeting place of the Pack, he took the time to enjoy the scenery along the way.

As he stopped in front of the boulder, he tipped his head up and sang a soft call for the small woman, settling his haunches to the ground and tucking his tail about his hips as he lowered his muzzle and watched the few birds that remained during winter. Ravens, mostly, going about their business. He ran across what he was going to teach Solveiga; where to start, for instance. Maybe he’d do what his mother did – asking them to show what they knew, and build from there. He’d just have to see.