Spinning out of control

The storm outside began to change from a steady drumming to a monstrous roar. Bits of broken hail began to bounce through the root curtain that separated the cave from the elements. The fragments were quite large which suggested an intact stone was large enough to do serious damage to a soft mammalian creature. It sounded like they had made it inside just in time. It would have been a shame for him to get his head cracked mere hours after finding a suitable mate. Proof that the Fallen God had a sense of humor? Maybe, but a shame all the same.

Pyrrhic was quiet as he digested Riva's answer. It was a good, solid, reasonable answer. Both of them were. He was quiet as he studied her face, trying to suss out where her head was at. Thinking about someone else was hard. Of course as heir and then as leader he'd had to do it to some extent, but this was different. He wasn't thinking broadly about the pack or about the training regimen that would be best suited to an individual. This was something else.

His eyes were still on her, still looking for answers, when he asked, "What if I don't have any bruises? Then what?"