"I will not play with sharp objects"

Thorn was jogging along the beach, his wooden sword firmly in his mouth.  The sand shifted under the weight and was flung backward as he ran.  With a rhythmic pattern he spun his neck to the left, slashing an imagined enemy, then his head was brought back to center, a few more strides, and the sword swung to the right and once more straightened.  

His gait slowed as he heard his father’s howl.  It was time for the meeting  Turning to face the castle he picked up his speed, long strides carried him back to the castle fast and it didn’t take to long before he was striding through the castle entry and slowed back to a walk.

Thorn made his way to the great hall, slipping past other wolves with his focus on Dusk.  He sat down near the front of where the wolves were gathered.  The young wolf had grown in size and muscle over this last season.  He was also missing the tip of his left ear, the dark blue fur stopping short before it could hit a curved point. Settling his weight on his rump his gaze met Dusk somberly, lip twitching for a moment to offer a comforting smile.  

"Thorn Carpathius"