The Nature of the Beast (celestial fight training)

Mask had heard the call, but had been far from being where he could answer it quickly. It was a call for fight training. He was a hunter in rank, not a warrior, but he knew that the pack rules stated that all ranks should learn to defend themselves, so even had he not been willing he would have been required. As it was, he was more than willing to brush the dust off old skills that had been left dormant far too long. It gave him a bittersweet sense of nostalgia to remember training alongside and leading training for his brothers in the cosca, and he had to stop and close his eyes, taking a deep breath against the wave of sadness and self-castigation that welled up in his chest at the memories.

Finally though, he had made his way through the sticky, slushy snow to where the pack was gathering. Dipping his head in apology for his lateness to the female who had called the meeting, he took his place among the pack, the last arrival.