Dust. Bones. War. Worship. He swallowed against the scent of sweat, blood, and rage that seeped into this wasteland like a cloying oil. His wide paws traveled her for learning, knowledge, to teach his body how to react and fight. How to defend, and make the right moves to win. He can do this. He was going to be a shield and you can't become a shield by lying in the woods, he had to know how others fought and where their defenses lay.
He called to the dead wind, a long lonesome tune of welcome, to spar, to practice. So far his opponents had been friends and allies. Would he know or come to know his next one? His ivory and dusky winged swallow-tailed kite soared overhead. His friend Dagdrin, a dangerous Fossa, clung to his heel and melded into his matching fur.
Professor
