we can be more

She figured it was time to broaden her horizons.

Wren had worked tirelessly to improve herself, and it was near fruition. She approached the stack of Armada supplies and chose something to practice with. Her leather braces were familiar to her now, so the young woman picked something that wasn't. She had never fought with a blade before. Beauregard had, and she'd seen other wolves do it too. Was it so different? Did she need to be more agile, or else she'd risk cutting herself? Mercury would no doubt tell her to rest her wounded leg, but it was getting better and better every day. She didn't want to worry him, so she practiced in secret.

She chose a blade, a small little iron dagger. Nothing important, nor flashy, but enough so she could safely practice. She gripped the handle in her jaws before walking to the Cove's location. There, the sandy beaches would be useful to practice on. Spring had come in full bloom. She welcomed the change, knowing in weeks or months she'd turn three years. It was a sad but welcomed thought. How fast did the seasons change here, and why did she need them to happen? Simple. Age came with experience. She wanted to improve, grow and learn from her mistakes. She would prevail. She had to.

She approached the training dummies she had made with Makara. Propped up along the sandy beach, she left them for the wolves of Menagerie to practice on. She'd never used one before now, so no time like the present! Wren rushed the straw-filled sack, aiming a blow to the right. The dagger almost slipped from her jaw. She gasped, trying to quickly pick it up. She was so used to her jaws opening and biting into another; this felt strange. The dagger almost fell again when Wren tried once more to make her movements fluid. She jabbed at the side awkwardly, allowing some straw to peek through the leather cover.

Good. Progress.

Wren lunged a third time, trying to make the blade an extension of her body. She jabbed the center of the training dummy, spilling straw as she made a grand slice. Inwardly, the woman shivered. If this was what it took to wield a blade, she'd have to be super careful not to hurt anyone with it. Practicing was different than a live body and a real situation. She recalled the fights she had won, the fights she had lost... Some of them ended in default to her. She frowned, placing the blade on the earth. She studied it, pawing the metal parts with a singular limb. If she had to use a weapon, she'd prefer something a bit longer... Maybe even a bit curved.

Alas, she didn't know anyone who could make her a blade. Wren decided long ago to use what the gods had given her. What nature intended, but Boreas and Auster were full of wolves that used items. Suddenly renewed with vigor, she grabbed the dagger and began her assault again. This time, she managed to yank her neck at odd angles in order to reach higher. Stab higher. Make it count. If she was to be an alpha, Wren had to forget pleasantries sometimes. Someone may gun for her sanctuary and her members. Their safety was her priority. She would make sure they were protected. She had to make that vow.

If not for them, but for herself. Pride was a thing, but she didn't want it to be everything. Wren would be happy just making it half a year before admitting defeat. She jabbed and stabbed the training dummy until it was 'dead' and turned on the next one. There were three in total she had made with Makara close by. She learned she could use a weapon. She learned she had a shorter body compared to some others. Boreas bred giants, and it wouldn't be the last time she echoed that thought. It was time to learn to accept her body. It was time to accept she wasn't as massive as some wolves. Using her speed against them, she'd prevail if she set her mind to it.

And with that in mind, Wren decided to ponder. If she had a blade, a weapon, she could do more damage to enemies. Surely, she would never use it against others in a spar or practice. It was important to match her style with something that suited her. Maybe a sword. A dagger was much too short for her. She felt as if she'd cut her lips with it. Spitting out the blade a second time, she nosed the Storage again. A longer blade would be useful, something with a sheath for safety... She managed to find a long, broadsword-like thing. Then she went onto a spear. The spear would be easier for her but she liked the style of a long steel blade.

Nosing again, she found a scimitar. This was curved a bit, with a sturdy handle. Hmm. Wren chose it and tried it on the second dummy. It felt like an extension this time, like a glove to a hand. Pleased, she recalled the fight with Beauregard again. How he used his sword. She tried to copy his movements against the dummy, recalling what she could about the fight. While it was sloppy, she decided a blade was good to invest in. Maybe down the road; she had a pack to form and members to gather. But if she wanted to protect all she would work toward, she did need better equipment. The bracers were a good start. Maybe she'd ask Basilisk or Sirius what they recommended.

But they were bigger wolves. Much bigger. What was useful for them would not be useful for her. Wren kept in mind; that all body types and shapes existed in this world. That they were all made differently, and she had to adjust and adapt to each situation best she could. Else she was doomed to fail, each and every time.

"Speech"
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