Don't Cry Snowman

He paused momentarily. Of course. Hannibal who toted how much he loved Erövare was already turning his children against the pack’s foundation. “Well, what isn’t there to like about festivals?” He asked, keeping his anger at Hannibal from his tone. The child after all had done nothing wrong, he had simply been saddled with poor parents.

“There’s hunting, dancing, and of course spars.” He said with a slight grin. “I raised the pack too late to hold them this year but next Autumn there will be the Moose Gauntlet, where Erövrare’s strongest fighters compete against each other for first prize and the title of champion. Best of all, by next Autumn you’ll be big and strong enough to enter.” He explained, his tail waving slightly as he attempted to impress the boy.

“…Or…If you prefer, during the Summer we have the Summer fox chase, where the greatest hunters in the pack hunt for a special fox that I select myself. There is also a prize for whomever catches the fox first, and of course the title of Summer Champion.” He explained, then looked down at the boy, waiting for his reaction, would he be impressed? Or had the boy’s parents already done their work on him and turned him against Erövrare entirely?