Stepping up

As Basilisk arrived, focusing on him, Charlie noticed how the other wolf studied him. Did he not trust him to be loyal? Was he fearing that he would turn and pursue Kite? Not without evidence that she had been justified in her actions. As far as the tawny wolf could tell she had been the one in the wrong, the one who had been the aggressor in the situation. As much as Charlie loved his family, he wouldn’t support them tearing each other apart. Both Basilisk’s confused response and the spar that he had with the new Warlord had spoken to Charlie volumes about the type of man that he was.

“There are two that are nearly complete. I’ve been putting the finishing touches on them.” Charlie tells Basilisk, motioning with his muzzle to invite the Warlord to walk with him to the forge. “The first is a mace, a weapon that my father had been helping me design and make. I’ve been taking it slow, hoping that maybe we would have had more time to finish it together, but…” He chuckled softly and shook his head.

“The life of a warlord is a busy one. I can’t blame him for not having the time.” Charlie would miss his father, and wished that they had gotten to spend more time together, though he knew that he’d gotten to spend more time with the man than most of his siblings.

“The other is a dagger for Wylan. It was originally my father’s test for the position, and I admit I’ve been fussing over it, wanting it to be perfect. Anything for our pack, our family, should be.” His blue eyes were focused on the path ahead as he fell quiet for a moment. He thought of Kite, Crux, and the rest of his siblings. Would any of them request a leave from the Armada…?

“How have you been settling as Warlord, by the way?” He asked, hoping Basilisk wouldn’t mind a subject shift while they walked.

"Speech," 'Thought.'