child-friendly? what's that?

Several more children filed in dutifully to take part in the lesson his mother held for them, though he paid them little heed aside from the eeriness of his stare tracking their movements until they settled within the little group of mongrels. Adopted siblings, mostly. A tiny, bumbling pup who he was fairly certain was one of the newly whelped cousin-packmate-friends. And then his mother spoke again, her gravelly vocals commanding their attention without question. It was a true rarity for the raven princeling to keep his mouth shut for so long, always a sociable and inquisitive creature. Instead he soaked it all in, a greedy flame that devoured as readily as it destroyed.

Absinth bade him shut his eyes, but he was reticent to do so. Though he trusted her with his entire being, the boy was not one to relinquish his opportunity for observation, assessment, awareness. Lids flickered tentatively shut, lashes alighting upon pudgy soft cheeks and downy fur. A scenario was posed, that of a much larger canine with a great deal more strength to boast- a threat to his continued existence. Reflexively did kohl auds tip back, brow furrowing in a mixture of frustration and wrath. He knew well that there was only one solution, and that was to fight to the last. To draw blood and claw at tender flesh with no regard for fairness or honor. There was only survival, and Indica would not be snuffed out without taking his opponent to the void alongside him.

Optics of whirling silver-blue-green flickered open as the unpleasant vision faded from the forefront of his imagination, instead lingering at the back of his awareness in a steady flash of teeth blood pain snarl claws on an endless loop. A burbling sense of anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach, the kind of intestinal knots that seemed as though they might tear his guts from within. Though it was not particularly brave of him, Indica hoped he would never find himself at such a disadvantage.

Soothing as could be, the softness of his mother's vocals eased his concerns with gently uttered promises that his wits were just as serviceable for his own protection as brute force and violence. With rapt attention, those pale eyes fixed upon his dam and drank in every syllable. What advice did she have to bestow, to ensure that he could best train his mind for such an event?