With all the force of a great typhoon

He knew what she meant. He knew why they had done it. To stip her of her dignity, and any illusion she had of defending herself. All the more reason she learned to fight. She belonged to him now, and Hell help anyone who tried to hurt her. Anger burning through his veins, thick as molasses, he made another round circling her. His steps were controlled and careful as he appraised her stance. He saw the way she cringed into herself, and made the assumption that her memories were bothering her.

“The point of holding yourself this way is to keep yourself balanced, controlled, and ready. You want to make it difficult for an opponent to grab something, or knock you off balance. This is the core stance of a trained wolf, and you will practise falling into it each day until it becomes familiar to you. Until your body calls this stance its natural position” He said, voice a brisk order. Then he turned, his eyes finding Bast who stood by the entrance. “Head to my den, and grab the sheep's coat from the top rack. That should be about her size.” He ordered. They had taken her tail, they had stripped her of all defences. So he would make her a coat, a second skin.

He turned back to Adelina. “Defence will only get you so far. Your strongest defence is offence. You need to learn to strike first, and strike hard. You're small, and lighter than most wolves you’ll meet. We need to learn how to use that. I want you to stalk a circle around me. As you move, consider her balance and defences, don’t let them slide because you’re concentrating on something else.”


"Sirius Fatalis"