Battling the world

The Warlord held himself a little aloof from the tawny little pup. A part of him wanted to scoop Stratum up, and hold him tightly to him. That part of him was the one likely to go a little unhinged, and he knew he couldn’t indulge it. So he embraced the other side of the scale, the one that had him keeping his distance, and looking at the boy with a careful eye. An instructor, not a father.

It didn’t take Stratum too long to find the scent, latching onto the trail of the coyotes. He gave a short, approving nod, and followed after Stratum. The boy took to the trail and led them in the right direction. The pup correctly guessed that the yipping racket of the coyotes signified that they had reached their quarry. “Now, we teach them why this territory belongs to the wolves.” He explained to his boy. Placing himself just before the other wolf as he considered their approach. “Coyotes are opportunists, and cowards. Take the lead, and draw them out. When they approach you, run to where I will be hiding, this will drive them towards me. Once you reach me, circle to the side and attack their backs while they are distracted.” He decided. Bast was lurking quietly in the woods to their right, she would keep the boy safe as well.


"Sirius Fatalis"