oh the misery

Basilisk looked at the little yearling, and heard the determination in her voice. She had nothing to fall back on but still she stood strong. Clearly it mattered to her to know what she was walking into, even if her choices were slim. “That would depend a little on you” He explained, pausing to grip the polar bear coat and drag it back up his shoulders. It was skinned but not yet shaped. It didn’t fit naturally across his broad shoulders.

“You would have the opportunity to pursue a future of your choosing. If that was hunting, you would be assessed and taught appropriately.” He explained. She was young, so whichever direction she chose he knew he would have to put time and effort into her. An acceptable loss of his time to form a wolf that would be valuable to the Armada one day.

"Basilisk"