Growing up, taking responsibility

Charlie didn’t want to do this. He could feel himself wanting to turn, to run away. His father could see that weakness, and when he spoke, he made it clear that Charlie was to fight now, when the stakes were at their highest. The yearling felt his heart leap to his throat. Now? Here and now would determine her fate? His claws dug into the earth. He… he wasn’t ready… There was no way he could beat his father in battle as he was now. But if he didn’t make that attempt now he would never become a warrior of the Armada. Forever weak. Forever helpless to protect anyone. Charlie drew in a breath, lifting his gaze to where Marshall held Silveris in the air. He could see the Shrike struggling, desperately trying to get out of the larger bird’s claws.

There was another pang in his chest. He needed to make a choice. If he fought now, he could risk losing her companionship forever… but if he didn’t fight, he would not only lose her, he would lose the chance to ever make anything of himself. All his goals, all his dreams… they would be laid to rest here. His mind again flicked to his mother. Losing her had been something he’d truly been powerless to stop… but… he had a chance to do better by Silveris now. He didn’t know if his father would simply send her away, or even sell her to another in their market, but if he did nothing, then it was worse than when he lost his mother. He’d be the reason she was lost. At least if he fought, as she was trying now, he would have done everything he could to try and protect her.

Charlie drew in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment again.

It would be now or never, and was he not a Fatalis? Was he not meant to be a protector and a warrior? Charlie’s gaze would snap open, and this time, rather than the softened, troubled eyes of defeat, the narrowed look of determination had entered his gaze. It was different from how he had looked before, and he would widen his stance. His tail would raise, aligning with his spine, as his tail lowered and moved out behind him. Digits were spread, claws dug into the soul, and Charlie raised his hackles once more. Shoulders were rolled forward, and before Yorrick could step in as an attempted aid again, Charlie would speak, his voice clear.

“Yorrick, you are to stand down this battle.” Charlie fixed his gaze on his father. “If he wants to see my focus, then he will see my focus and my resolve to keep Silveris with us.” He could feel a mix of emotions. Though he was doing his best to be brave, to be strong, he was terrified of failing. But he couldn’t think of what would happen if he did. He had to focus on the moment of trying. Yorrick would frown, gaze flicking to Sirius. If Sirius would replace one of his son’s companions for being a distraction and not up to snuff, would he consider replacing them both? Still… This was Charlie’s battle. He would respect the boy’s decision, even if standing on the sidelines would be hard.

In their first fight, he had seen that slamming his father wouldn’t be enough. Like himself Sirius was a dire wolf, and just a touch larger than Charlie himself was. His legs were armored, with bracers, and the front ones had knives… his father had already tried to use his own forelegs to sweep his legs from under him. Charlie would begin to stalk, circling, but it was clear his mind was at work. He moved with purpose, even as the glazed look for the tears lingered in his narrowed gaze.

With Marshall holding onto Silveris his father had two companions at his disposal. And, given his distraction with Silveris, he half expected one of them to target Yorrick whether he was participating or not to throw him off. He needed to be ready for anything. There was also the chance that they would try to target his own legs. Keeping his weight distributed to prevent going down would be important. His father was a seasoned warrior… it would take everything he had to make this work. He would come to a stop and face his father again, roughly six feet between them. No more stalling.

Charlie would come in hard, like had done before, charging Sirius with the intent of closing the gap between them. But this time he would not keep his straight forward path. Attempting to close the distance, he would deviate halfway in. Not worrying about the counter that was likely coming his way until he could read his father’s movements, Charlie attempted to use his momentum to come up alongside Sirius’ right. He’d kick the ground, seeking about half a body’s width of distance between himself and his father as he neared Sirius’ front, and then, as he landed in the short hop, kicked the ground again in an attempted second hop, this one with the intent of attack.

Hoping to have his rear angled away from his father’s jaws, Charlie was coming in at roughly a forty five degree angle toward his father’s back right leg. Charlie’s left forepaw was stretched forward, aiming to bring the weight down on his father’s back left forepaw. The goal was some bruising, maybe some superficial scratches from his claws, but without his father’s mutation those scratches wouldn’t take long to heal. Charlie wouldn’t stop there either. He sought to bring his jaws to his own left forward his father’s haunch and slice through flesh. The larger surface and his father’s thicker fur would make it pretty much impossible to keep any sort of hold, but he’d take the damage he could get should it be successful. Following up the attack and managing his father’s counter would be at the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t get distracted. Not again.

"Speech," 'Thought.'