Stir the coals

Basilisk looked at Ignita, waiting for an answer. Watching to see if the gravity of the situation settled upon her. He was… surprised when she pushed back, stepping away and pacing for a moment. She was muttering something, but it seemed more to herself than to him.

“Ignita.” Basilisk said quietly, watching her. He stepped closer, raising a giant paw and extending one single claw. He pushed it gently against her lip, hushing her. “Ignita.” He said, voice gentle. “Your head is too loud. Your doubts and fears and questions… So many questions… their bubbling and leaking all over the place. You're afraid, because you can’t stop thinking.” He had already decided to change his first lesson, looking at her.

“We will shelf defences for the moment. I’m going to teach you something else. Something perhaps a little more instinctive to warriors, and wolves that have lived all their lives among them. Come.” He told her, and led her away from the firepit, through the light of the crisp early morning towards the beach. He sat on the black sand, just starting to warm from the first few tendrils of sun. He could hear the cry of a few lonely birds, and the crash of the waves. It was quiet here, away from the bustle of the pack. “I want you to sit in whatever position you think you’ll find most comfortable. Model your breath on mine, breathe when I do. Sit, and empty your mind, listen to the waves, and the sound of my voice.” he told her, evening out his voice and keeping it soft and gentle.