runt: take two

The Fatalis runt didn't spend much time with his sire and nor did he mourn the lack of attention. If anything, Levi embraced the solitude, thrived on it and spent much of his time doing things he knew adults wouldn't approve of. Taking risks, fighting to hurt and not just win. Raising his head, blood dripped from the length of his growing sabres as his Sire's call  met the golden tips of his ears. What did he want? Adults often called for Levi to train and just see what he was up to, but they rarely sounded like this, all bossy and aloof. Mum would not be happy.

Casting one last side glance at the lone coyote who'd wandered too close to the Armada's borders, Levi turned and left the shredded remains where they were. Eyes gouged and lacerations aplenty. Instead he made quick work of carving through the Plains, feather light paws a golden blur as he bounded along, making it to the training area in record time with his breathing still relatively calm and blood still wet and smeared across his muzzle. Though it wasn't anything a few swipes of his tongue couldn't chase away.

"Hello Dad." He greeted, expectant.