Absinth sat before the children. Her form poised yet rigid, emeralds both captivating and severe as she let silence reign as perhaps they wondered why she had summoned them. Each of them had made progress, and it was not limited to merely them. Many of her children were learning hard and fast, and she had taken notice of the pride they all carried—yet she knew that pride alone wouldn’t shield them from what the world demanded. Her ears twitched as her ravens settled nearby, their scouting to find any more of her brood nearby fruitless. She tsked, but began.

“Do you know what self-preservation is?” she began, her tone unwavering. “It is not cowardice, if you understand when it is needed and when you should use it.” She paused, letting her words hang in the air, her gaze fierce.

Absinth leaned forward slightly, her form taut with muscle, her piercing gaze moving from one listener to the next, ensuring they felt her intensity. “You will not win every battle. You will not escape pain or suffering. You might one day be stripped of everything you are, broken and battered. But if you’re smart enough you can overcome it. Better yet, prevent it. Your loyalty must first be to yourself. It is not a weakness to value your survival and your way of life—it is your strength. Most wars are waged over the very same ideal.” Her lips curled into a sharp smile, the kind that was both warning and invitation.

"Absinth Artemisia Inferos"

Sericea listened intently to her mother's words, her acidic green eyes wide and attentive. The girl’s ears perked forward, absorbing every bit of Absinth's lesson. She could feel the weight and truth behind what her mother was imparting.

As her mother’s fierce gaze fell upon her, Sericea met it unflinchingly, determined to show her understanding and resolve. The red-furred puppy gave a small, resolute nod. She knew her mother was entrusting her with vital wisdom, preparing her for the challenges that lay ahead in their unforgiving world. Sericea's mind raced, pondering how she could apply this lesson. Her stubby tail twitched thoughtfully against the ground. Self-preservation - putting her own well-being and survival first when needed. It wasn't selfish, it was smart. It was a strength, not a weakness.

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"

Xairo sat attentively beside his siblings, his keen emerald eyes locked on his mother as she imparted her wisdom. Though young Saxe could sense the gravity in Absinth's words, the importance of the lesson she aimed to ingrain in her children. As Absinth's piercing gaze fell upon him, Xairo straightened, determined to prove he was absorbing every word. He kneaded the earth beneath him thoughtfully as he turned the concept of self-preservation over in his mind.

Loyalty to oneself above all else - it wasn’t a foreign idea, yet as Absinth laid it bare, it resonated deep within Xairo's chest. In a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, was it not crucial to prioritize one's own survival? To guard oneself so that you may live to fight another day?

"Xairo Saxe"

Ludovic's mismatched eyes watched Absinth intently, absorbing her lesson on self-preservation. It was a concept he instinctively understood, but her words clarified it further. It was something he already knew deep down but now understood even better. Survival was about knowing when to step back, avoid defeat, and save your energy for future challenges. It meant being clever, relying on more than just muscle and chance.
He met his mother’s eyes, nodding as she instilled the lesson into their very beings. The idea of retreating from a fight conflicted him, and though he couldn't be sure how he'd react until faced with such a decision, he planned to avoid ever being in that position. Ludovic was determined to structure his life and decisions in such a way that he'd never need to face such a choice.


"Ludovic Praetor-Inferos"

Sitting before Mother Absinth, Zagan’s bi-colored eyes were fixated on her, as he hung on her every word. Today, she was teaching them about self-preservation- it was not cowardice, if they could understand the concept. At first, Zagan struggled to follow along with her teaching- in his mind, self-preservation was a basic instinct. Perhaps, even intrinsic. It gave each creature the impulse to protect themselves from harm or death, even if that meant abandoning others. Was it truly a concept they could mold to their will? One they could exploit?

But Absinth painted a clear picture for them. They could not escape pain or suffering, but they could be smart enough to overcome it- and perhaps, with enough training, they could prevent it.


"Zagan Saxe"

As Abyss listened to their Mother’s newest lesson on self-preservation, they did not fidget beneath the intensity of her acidic green eyes. Even when Mother’s lips curled to reveal a flash of sharp fangs, and her muscles grew taught beneath her pelt, the importance of this lesson shimmering in her eyes, Abyss did not move. Their gaze was fixated on Mother, their expression neutral, unreadable, the sharp edge of their jawline unmoving, and the set of their shoulders relaxed but guarded.

In their mind, they were dissecting Mother’s teachings- the importance of understanding that they would not win every battle. That pain and suffering were inescapable, but with enough intellect, it could be prevented in some situations. That it was not a weakness to value their own survival. Self-preservation seemed like a rudimentary instinct- but it was much more than that. And Mother was going to show them how.

"Speech"

Absinth shifted her weight, circling the children, watching each pupil with the practiced patience of a hunter. Her ears tilted forward as she continued, her voice taking on a sharper edge. “To preserve yourself, you must learn to recognize the danger that has come for you. Threats come in many forms—some are obvious, while others are damn hard to see. Some are your own fault. Your instincts will speak to you, and if you’re wise, you will listen. Does your enemy want you in chains, can you win if they try? Is your new friend leading you further away because there truly is something they want to show you, or is it a trap set to fool you? Maybe you should have held your tongue in the face of a bigger, stronger wolf. Gut instinct will tell you, never take it for granted.”

She observed Ravana, who was already leaning forward with wide, eager eyes. Abyssinica sat more calmly, expression guarded, while Sericea’s gaze lingered somewhere between curiosity and wariness. “But instinct alone is not enough,” Absinth said, tilting her head slightly, her tail flicking to the side as if to punctuate her point. “You must identify your weaknesses, too. Knowing where you are vulnerable allows you to protect yourself. I am not well liked for the way I speak, and I don’t care to hold my tongue. I half expect every other person I meet will try to take a pound of flesh by the end of our meeting. Maybe they’ll succeed.” A grin, a confident and impish one flashed by quickly.

Her voice lowered, filled with a cold certainty. “A threat unacknowledged becomes a wound waiting to happen. Do not think you are invincible; that’s a fool’s delusion.” Absinth met each of their gazes, letting the silence press upon them. “Each mistake you make will shape you. But remember,” she added, her voice softening yet retaining its intensity, “the dead cannot learn.”


"Absinth Artemisia Inferos"

Sericea's brow furrowed as she absorbed her mother's ominous words. The dead cannot learn, Absinth had said, the phrase echoing in Sericea's mind. A chill ran down her spine at the thought. She knew Absinth spoke the truth, however unsettling it may be. In their world, mistakes could be fatal. There was no room for naivety or overconfidence.

The girl squared her narrow shoulders, determined to heed her mother's warnings. She would have to be vigilant, always on guard for potential threats, both obvious and hidden. Sericea's muzzle scrunched up as she pondered her own weaknesses. What chinks were there in her armor? Where was she vulnerable to attack or manipulation?

Her independence could be exploited, she realized. Her curiosity too, if she wasn't careful. An enemy could lure her away from safety with the promise of new knowledge or experiences. Her loyalty and protectiveness of loved ones was another potential pitfall - would she blindly rush into danger for their sake without thinking of the risks to herself?

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"

Xairo listened intently as Absinth circled them, her words sharp as a blade's edge. The boy’s muscles tensed, coiled like springs ready to act on the lessons being imparted. His mother's warnings about hidden dangers and exploitable weaknesses sunk deep into his mind.

Xairo's tail twitched, betraying a flash of unease. The thought of an enemy fooling him, leading him astray with falsities, only to ensnare him in a trap, made his hackles prick with wariness. He would need to be on constant guard, scrutinizing every interaction for potential threats lurking beneath a veneer of amity.

And what of his own flaws, the gaps in his defenses an opponent could target? Xairo's brow furrowed as he took unflinching stock of himself. His boldness, his compulsion to prove himself, to never show weakness - could those very traits be turned against him? An enemy might goad him, manipulate his pride and competitive nature to lure him into a dangerous misstep. The thought made Xairo's lips curl back, exposing the points of his fangs.

"Xairo Saxe"

As she spoke of dangers and instincts, he felt a chill of recognition stir within him. He understood well the need to discern between genuine threats and deceptive calm. Each scenario she described sparked in him a flicker of memories—times when his instincts had guided him safely and moments when he had learned from painful mistakes. A run in with a bear, a wrong step when training that sent him sprawling to the ground. But this was slightly different, yet not unlike previous lessons she had given them.

Her blunt admission about expecting hostility resonated with him; he too was often braced for confrontation, knowing that his presence could provoke challenges. Her reminder that they were not invincible… was a reminder of how easily life could be taken from any one of them. It made his fur bristle.
The silence that followed her words weighed heavily, especially after her sobering reminder: the dead cannot learn.


"Ludovic Praetor-Inferos"

As Mother Absinth went on, she developed a sharper edge to her words, expressing a deeper level of importance. Zagan nearly leaned forward on the edge of his seat, his claws unsheathing to dig into the soft soil beneath his paws. A sign of anticipation and unwavering attention. She spoke of the importance of recognizing danger- a concept that seemed rudimentary- but as she continued on, Zagan could see the pieces of her teaching falling together. Not all threats were obvious- yes, their instincts would help them detect danger- but what if the source was a friend? A loved one? Someone they trusted? Blame it on his developing grandiosity, but Zagan believed he was smart enough to see through anyone’s ploys, especially someone close to him.

And Absinth must have read his smug expression, because her next words felt directed at him. A threat unacknowledged becomes a wound waiting to happen. His posture shifted slightly, the musculature beneath his pelt becoming tense. The dead could not learn.

"Zagan Saxe"

Mother continued on, and Abyss’ attention was focused on her- sharp, as keen as a blade, but distant- as there was no trace of approval or disagreement in their expression. Only the desire to absorb all the information they could. For a moment, a beat of silence hangs in the air, Absinth’s ears tilting forward as she continued. Her voice took a sharper edge, but Abyss was unfazed by the intensity of her words.

They needed to recognize that when danger came for them, it would confront them in many forms. Friend, foe, stranger. There were no limits to facades that danger could use to hide itself. Abyss felt the impulse to shift their gaze to their siblings, as they wondered which of them would sacrifice them, if it came down to protecting their own lives. But instead, they kept their gaze on Mother, refocusing their thoughts. Their mind was tracing the path of each word, piecing it all together, and lingering on the phrase, the dead cannot learn. A reminder that each mistake would shape them. That unacknowledged threats were a wound waiting to happen- just as Mother said.

"Speech"

She let her claws flex, pressing briefly into the earth with each step, drawing their attention to the potential thread she herself was. Back to the main topic. “The wrong reaction could cost you your life—or worse, your freedom. When faced with danger, consider your options. Flight, fight, or feint—each has its place. Do not let pride push you to fight when survival demands subtlety. Pride can get you killed as easily as cowardice can.”

Her voice dropped to a murmur, more intimate now as she drew closer, her tail sweeping low and controlled. “Sometimes, your strength lies in letting others believe they have you figured out, letting them underestimate you until the moment is right to strike.” She glanced at them with a knowing look, her lips curling into a slight smirk. “Or to escape, if needed. There’s no shame in retreat if it allows you to live to fight again. Unless of course, it’s something you’d stake your life on. Just remember, you’ve only got one life. And not nearly enough strength or experience to know what’s worth betting your life on.”

“For example. I, for one, would rather die than apologize for something I said. Why would I have said it if I didn’t mean it?” For a moment she forgot her point and quickly huffed, a laugh escaping her as she couldn’t control her tongue even then. “You all, on the other hand, might prefer a different option.” Absinth paused, her posture relaxing slightly, signaling the lesson’s end.


"Absinth Artemisia Inferos"

Sericea's mind raced with the implications of her mother's words. The lesson was sobering, stripping away any illusions of invincibility or guaranteed success. Absinth was right - Sericea was young and inexperienced still. She didn't yet have the wisdom to know what causes were truly worth risking everything for. Better to err on the side of caution and cunning for now.

She mulled over the different strategies her mother had outlined. Flight, fight or feint. Each had their place depending on the situation. Sericea's first instinct was often to fight, fueled by her independent streak and explosive temper. But Absinth's lesson made it clear that fighting wasn't always the smartest move. Sometimes it took more strength and cleverness to retreat, regroup, and strike back later from a position of advantage.

Feinting - letting others underestimate you until the time was right to act. That approach resonated with Sericea. Her small size and youth already caused many to dismiss her as a non-threat. Perhaps she could use that misconception to her benefit. Lure enemies into a false sense of security and then catch them off guard when they least expected it.

She glanced at her mother, a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips as she imagined the possibilities. This had been a most interesting lesson.

"Sericea Praetor-Inferos"

Xairo sat quietly, absorbing every word of Absinth's lesson like a sponge. The concept of self-preservation resonated deeply with him - in a world full of dangers both overt and hidden, one could never be too cautious or prepared. His mother's emphasis on identifying weaknesses, both in oneself and in others, struck a particular chord.

Xairo's mind whirred, already analyzing his own vulnerabilities and how they might be exploited. His ambition, his desire to prove himself and establish dominance - those traits could so easily become liabilities if he wasn't careful. An enemy could manipulate his pride, goad him into reckless action. The thought made Xairo's lips curl back, exposing gleaming fangs. He would have to be vigilant, always on guard against such tactics.

Xairo mulled over the different strategies Absinth had outlined. His first instinct was always to fight, to meet any challenge head-on and prove his strength and dominance. Fleeing felt cowardly, like an admission of weakness. The very idea made his hackles rise.

But as he turned his mother's words over in his mind, Xairo began to see the wisdom in them. In some situations, retreat could be the smartest move. Live to fight another day, as Absinth said. Conserve your strength and strike back when the odds were in your favor. It wasn't cowardice, it was tactical.

The concept of feinting intrigued Xairo most of all. Letting your enemy underestimate you, lulling them into a false sense of security until the moment was right to show your true power. There was a certain appeal to that kind of cunning deception. Something worth adding to his arsenal, for sure.

"Xairo Saxe"

Ludovic listened closely as Absinth explained the survival strategies of flight, fight, or feint. Her emphasis on not letting pride dictate decisions, which he knew, he knew that survival often meant using cunning rather than force. Mother always made it clear you could use your intelligence just as dangerous as one would a sword.

Ludovic considered what principles he wouldn't compromise, the issues he would stand firm on no matter the cost. On the other hand, he also thought about what matters he could overlook for the sake of long-term survival and success. It was difficult to answer that now.

As Absinth finished, relaxing her posture and sharing a slight smirk, Ludovic met her gaze again. He thought about her stance on never apologizing for spoken words, wondering if he would be the same when he came of age. Was he so bold? Would he be? He felt like he was neither as daring as his sister Araxina or his brother Dracun, but neither was he so prudent as Sericea. Perhaps… he could morph himself into whatever mold he needed to fit—that was he would always be prepared for what lay ahead.


"Ludovic Praetor-Inferos"

The tension in his shoulders started to relax, his quills flattening against his nape as he recollected his composure. Somehow, Mother Absinth had a knack for making him feel like she could read his mind. But she didn’t dwell on the same point for much longer- she continued in her teaching, moving onto the importance of considering one's options, especially in the face of danger.

His mind wandered for a moment, his great uncle Rhazien popping in his mind. He was always so eloquent with his words- he knew how to manipulate effortlessly, and if his silver tongue didn’t work, he could fight his way out of predicaments. Next, his mind wandered to his Father, the Sultan- how he always responded with blinding rage, and was quick to initiate violent assaults. Perhaps he could become a mixture of them both- the perfect mesh to fight or feint, but never run.

She may have claimed there was no shame in retreating, but Zagan had a hard time agreeing with that. Still, he’d listen to her teaching. She’d rather die than apologize for something she said. That sounded exactly like Mother Absinth. He wasn’t surprised.

"Zagan Saxe"

Abyss’ gaze remains fixed and unwavering- the only betrayal of their stoic expression being the faint clenching of their jaw, or the subtle flexing of their toes into the soil. Still, these movement are hardly noticeable- Abyss is a creature that blends into the background- a phantom poised to strike.

There were three options when faced with danger- flight, fight, or feint. Each had their purpose, in the right moment and time- choosing one over the other was not a form of cowardice, in the appropriate situation. They would face dangers that would force them to flee, if it meant returning to fight again. Not all battles were linear. Abyss was slowly starting to understand this, as their Mother’s teachings blended with the scenes Abyss had watched from the shadows. The pack’s politician came to their mind- how they’d watched him wield his silver tongue to manipulate and avoid violence.

As Mother finishes her teaching, Abyss does not nod, does not shift- there is no impatience, no eagerness to speak. Their face is impassive, but there is a trace of emotion in their gaze- a hint of understanding, of curiosity. That their mind was processing the information, having learned something of value from the lesson.


"Speech"