Foolish me for thinking I won't fall back and slip

Gabriel watched as the girl introduces herself. Hazel. A simple, but beautiful name. He listened as she mentioned her job; training Armada's fighters from the bottom to the top. It was an impressive and noble role in the pack, he could tell very clearly. She matched him in terms of size and even build, something that made him wonder if he would have to spar her, as well. He'd already had to spar Sirius, the dire-sized man superiors in combat and rank. Was this another rite of passage? Packs were..quite peculiar. But considering this was a pack leaning heavily on combat training, he supposed. He'd do his best to assimilate. There was little else he could do on this mortal plane, anyways.

She went on to explain they wouldn't spar. They would play a game of tag. Gabriel tilted his head in interest and confusion. He was..a little familiar with the game. A vague memory of chasing his many siblings conjured up enough context for him to understand the game. She stepped into a large circle, offering for him to begin the game without getting tagged himself. Gabriel stood for a few seconds, as if processing her words - and as she jogs about the circle's boundaries, he pauses in the center of the circle, waiting for her to be closest to him. He suddenly lunges forward, aiming to tag her with a bump of his snout to her shoulder. Quick, fast, like a striking snake. It was a simple move, but one he'd suddenly realized was very familiar. Yes, he'd played tag before. In what felt like eons ago.

"Speech!"

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