Man Up {Fight Training}

Once again Starling had found himself nose deep in a natural bouquet of flowers, his nose so full of pollen a bee could sustain a hive off it. It was at these times, when he was enjoying summer’s gifts and fetching herbs that he was slowly learning that his father would call. It was always like this, wasn’t it? But this time, it was for something rather important, something he didn’t want to miss. With a hum, and shining blue eyes, he would stand on his tall, gawky legs. With a toss of his head he’d shake the pollen from his fur before grinning and beginning to run (amble) towards the training session.

Unlike Lark, starling rather liked being in the shadows. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it if they went off to war, or began to fight in some way. There was only so much his nerves could handle. But also unlike Lark, Starling had very limited knowledge on the politics of the pack. All he wanted to do was pick flowers, speak Italian and kiss booboos. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to be like Lark. And it was so like his Big Brother to find himself at the fighting training session. Starling wasn’t sure what his recent desire to be like his larger brother came from, but he knew it was there. Lark seemed much more…confident than Starling, and some part of the little herbologist wanted to be like that too. He stumbled into the training, tripping over his own paws (like usual) and landing with a rather elegant puff of dust in front of his brother. With a whimper turned laugh he’d look up at him, an embarrassed smile pulling at his lips. ”A-am I late?” He asked in his small voice, picking himself up off the ground and shaking out his fur, again. With a grin directed at his father and mother he would pick a spot closer to his brother, hoping that he wouldn’t be sent away, or that anyone paired with him would be upset. He wasn’t exactly…a fighter. In any sense of the word.