Knock Off the Rust

He slipped away from pack lands in search of something to occupy his time. Spring had arrived, which meant traveling was easier. His first destination was the battlefield, a place he knew where he would have the best luck finding a spar to knock the rust off. Since joining a pack and leaving behind the rogue life, he hadn't been keeping on his training and he feared that if he remained lax about his duties and life, he would fall away into nothing. That wasn't Cepheus. He was a soldier born and raised...though perhaps more raised than born. His fathers had disappeared early on in his life, and he didn't know his mother. Different rogues throughout his life had practically raised him, teaching him how to hunt, fight, and survive.

Today, he sought a fight. He didn't particularly care what kind of fight, though a spar was more likely to brush up on his skills. He supposed it depended on who he came across while he was here. No two wolves were alike, after all. Would he come across someone looking for the same thing as him? Or someone with more malicious intentions? Only one way to find out, right? Stopping in a clearing riddled with slush from the melting snow that clung stubbornly to the land, Cepheus tilted his head back and called for an opponent.

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