a caustic, fleeting thing

The Warlord nodded his head, expecting nothing less of his ambitious daughter. If she wanted it, she would strive for it and work for it. He would be honoured to see her earn it one day. What he wouldn’t do was hand it to her. Once she took the position, she would know she had earned it by her own strength.

“Then you’ll just have to run a little faster to catch up. But your strong, and ambitious Hazel. If you want it, I can see you taking it” He told her. Not all of the Fatalis wolves had the right drive, and some that did had gone elsewhere. General was a position that needed filling, and he needed the right wolf for the job. Someone like Hazel. They arrived at the beach then, and he felt the dark sand beneath his paws. “What do you think of the cove?” He asked her. They had claimed it while she was recovering.

"Speech"