Do I make you proud?

As his paw moved from grass to sand, the Warlord paused. Tilting his head in amusement, as he heard the fierce growls of his little blue-brown wolf. His kids were almost six months now, give or take. In truth, the Warlord hadn’t taken much note of the passing days. But his boys were only fifteen or so inches shorter than him. Little Asla was still tiny enough he feared squashing her in his sleep.

He walked closer, finding Azure chasing his ghost across the arena in a terrible, vicious battle. Sirius could only imagine the boy was ripping out the throats of his foes.

Sirius stepped forward, moving a paw gingerly into the arena , and looking to his son with a hint of pride. He noted the damaged air, patched as it was, but likely the notch would remain for life. A small thing, but one that surprised him. Who had laid a hand on his boy? Perhaps Sirius would spill blood himself later, but for now… “Would you like a more tangible opponent?” he had rolled in the earth with Azure before, but they had never had a defined spar. He had trained the boy, given him tips, but he had always been too small for a fully fledged fight.