l'inverno è noioso

Starling knew he was doing it wrong. It was quite obvious. He hadn't spent much of his life swimming, he hadn't really seen the appeal. Sure as pups he and his siblings would swim in the river, but as a child his awkward ways was rather excusable. He hadn't been properly corrected in a way he'd remember. With ears pulled back and jaw tight he moved through the warmth untill Motif called his name, and showed him exactly how to swim. So you..didn't lift your paws? Made sense. With great care and concentration he'd try just that, keeping his rather long limbs under his body and moving them in a way that seemed more...elegant. Not that Starling could ever really master elegance. His tongue would stick out slightly, curling over his lip as he concentrated. It felt different, but it certainly was a lot more, well, efficient. He moved easier with less energy. His toes splayed through the water, the webbing and movement pushing him faster than his flailing had done. He continued untill she called for him, and he hoped he had pleased her...not that his movements were proper just yet, but defintally better.

He drug himself out of the pool, shaking his fur slightly to make it a little less heavy as he quickly moved to where she indicated. Without a word he'd slip into his "stance", his body a little less ridged but still...awkward. His toes would splay a little easier now, but it certainly wasn't anything close to what it should be. With effort he did as he was told, moving his limbs the way she asked onto the lines, and then again when she told him to readjust. Once again that little tongue was poking out and his eyes were narrowed in concentration as he looked at his paws and made sure they were in the proper places. When he heard her voice again, beginning to explain her teaching style, he quickly looked up at her.  "I-is that wh-why I fall a l-lot?" He asked softly. "I th-think too m-much?"

"Burn Baby Burn" | "Italian"