Iskandor worked fast. He gathered fallen branches, some dried pine needles, and scraps of bark. The rain had soaked much of the forest floor, but still he searched for anything salvageable, picking out dry materials under the canopy of trees they were under. It was the sound of the other pup’s voice that cut through his focus, halting his movements. He glanced back, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as he listened to their soft tone—laden with doubt. Who are you? Right. They hadn’t exactly had the chance to introduce themselves, huh? He didn’t answer right away, not because he didn’t want to, but because his mind was still fixed on ensuring their survival first. The boy knew what to do, he’d practiced, he’d learned from all those books; and by the Gods would that not go to waste now.
He knelt by the log, setting the tinder in a crude pile, his attached dew claw knives scraping a stone until a faint ember flickered to life. He crouched lower, shielding the fragile flame from any wind on this side of the log with his body, beckoning it to grow with careful breaths. He was intent in his task, bright blue eyes gleaming as he watched his creation come to life. Success. The fire’s light began to grow, consuming the kindling and offering them the beginnings of warmth. Only then did Iskandor look at them fully, his gaze softer now. Ready to answer their questions. “My name is Iskandor Fatalis, son of Ignita and Basilisk, a prince of the Armada. And I just… couldn’t leave you behind.” he said plainly, his voice calm, carrying no pretense or hesitation, as though the notion of abandoning them hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“But I guess you’re right,” he added, his eyes flicking back to the fire to adjust the growing flames, carefully adding in a small branch to see how it fared. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. But I couldn’t watch you get torn apart back there—I couldn’t stomach the thought of letting that be it for you.” The boy said, thoughtful, unguarded, and maybe a bit more naive than he meant to be. The fire crackled as he added a thicker branch to the flames now, its heat finally enough to begin drying both their damp fur. He straightened slightly, stretching upwards in an attempt to ease his own discomfort and fluff up his coat at once.
A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though something humorous had just occurred to him. “You know. I’m not very good at letting things go. I didn’t know that also went for living, breathing things, though. You’re alive, and I mean to keep it that way—until we go our separate ways at least.” He sat back on his haunches near the fire, his expression turning lighter as he tried again to lighten the mood. He didn’t have such trouble with his siblings, that happy lot. “Besides,” he said, flicking an ear toward them, “you’re pretty strong. Might be weak now, but I saw it. That tiger didn’t know what hit it. And I think I like the idea of you owing me a favor.” His grin widened, as though daring them to prove him wrong. Maybe that would make them more comfortable with all this, if he put a price on it. This kid didn’t seem all that used to a friendly face, afterall.
"Speech"
