A pup’s first fighting lesson

Hattori rumbled deeply, he remembered it well. All of it. Not just the scent of blood in the air, but the watchful eyes that stared down at him, judging and intense. Worst of all the wolf he had been pushed to kill, ordered to really, not given a chance beneath the clan's leader and his own Father and Lord. It was not a fond memory, not a moment of victory like Akito with his prize laying at his paws. Rather a moment of duty, a reminder of the order of things, proof of what he was capable of even at such a young age, where all he'd really wanted to do was remain by his Mother's side and listen to her sing. He did not think of it much, he gained nothing from wondering if the man he'd killed deserved to die that day or not, for if he hadn't done it someone else would have.

Hattori was firm but fair, words his sire had never lived by.

"It was long ago, I was about your age. How does it make you feel?" He asked then as they began to move, pushing through the thin stalks with ease.