The Ties That Bind

Boyish giggles escaped the wolf pup in a flurry while his mother brushed his forehead with affectionate licks, sweeping his short fur backward in slicked back swoops. Little blue paws smoothed down the damp fur on his brow before turning a youthful smile back up to Resin. Artorias studied his mother's stoic face, eyes following every scar and aged wrinkle that told a million tales of war and loss and weighty decisions and sleepless nights. Her single yellow eye seemed to shine more than usual, but maybe it was just the way it seemed to almost glow in the fading twilight. He was amazed by the strength of his mother, not just physically, but in her character and her commitments too. He hoped to be as strong as she was, in mind, body, and spirit. He hoped to have the capabilities to be a good wolf and to be able to protect his family and his pack if they ever needed him. But most importantly, he hoped to make her and Mama Tamsyn proud of what he could accomplish.

Resin had chased away the shadows clinging to his thoughts and brought him comfort, as well as a lot more to ruminate on in his quiet moments. But for right now, he had been waiting for her to conclude his day's training. He had gotten lost in their discussions and in the venting of his emotions, he'd almost forgotten why he had been out here waiting for her in the first place! "Oh, Mom, look at this!" he said, leaping out from between her paws to find his fallen sword. "I'm starting to be able to do more things now with all your training, so I think it's working! Watch this!" Snatching up his fallen sword in his jaws, Artorias turned to face his mother and assumed his fighting stance, paws spread to shoulder width, with back feet aligned with his front. He lowered his head to keep his neck in line with his spine, as she had shown him, feeling the balance and power in his stance. After a few basic practice swings of his sword, Artorias jumped and spun in the air, swinging his wooden sword in the direction of his turn, using momentum to bring the weapon down where an opponent would be standing with a hard thud into the ground. He repeated the move again, spinning and slicing down as he came to land.

He sought out his mother's reactions with eager eyes. Although she wasn't one to use weapons, Resin had been his North Star when it came to combat lessons, her teachings, pointers, and guidance keeping him on course and correcting him when it was needed. Although he lacked the fluidity of a seasoned fighter or more agile adult wolf, it showed that his brain was already in the mindset of planning out attacks and moves to add to his arsenal for later use. "Ah prohmesh ah hafn't used any of dees on Rhudy," he spoke, words choked up by his sword in his mouth, but his tail still wagged with juvenile excitement all the same. Resin had told him to fight fair with his siblings, and he had, refusing to use his sword on them if they were unarmed—well, except for the one fight with Daphne when she'd ambushed him, but that didn't count. She was practically asking for it at that point. He was trying to be fair though.