Poor Grace was blissfully unaware of the wolfdogs plans for her, but she'd have been worried if she did. The yearling had grown well since leaving her old life, and was no longer a loner. Phoenix had helped her greatly, but the willows were where she was thriving. Her limp hadn't lessened, but Grace could feel all the more muscle building around it. Her other muscles were more refined now, and Grace was filling out into her adult size. She, too, was looking for
@Warbone, and for reasons not so different. She wanted battle training, to learn better how to defend herself and her pack. Truly, she was getting better. She was still skittish, but not as jumpy as when she arrived here. Still highly suspicious as well, but also more confident. No longer did she want to shy away from the thought of fighting, as she had when faced with war in the maplewood. If war ever faced the Marauders, she wanted to be able to impress Warbone and defend her pack just as viciously.
Flora spotted the dark female and gave a loud, low bark, narrowing her mismatched eyes. "
Grace," her strong voice boomed. "
I challenge you to a spar for your rank of Eta." She rose her long, sleek neck, blinking slowly and looking down. She was tall and was still several inches taller than the dark one, Grace. She raced up to her, blocking her path with a sleek tan and black body. She placed one long leg forward and revealed gleaming teeth.
I am assuming that Grace would realistically be weakened by her limp?
Actually since she's had time for it to heal and for herself to adapt, the only issues she has with it are being slow and less maneuverable, but I'm sure there are ways around it like she does. She's a great hunter and if she can do that she can fight as well as any wolf. Her only true downfall is having to rely on instincts to fight, and even those will suffice.
Grace's black faded ears wilted back as the wolfdog Flora came from the trees. At first, she was confused at the agression. Had she done something wrong? Fear shadowed her golden eyes, but it was not towards the doberman. Her thoughts strayed back to her father, her brothers, the feeling of their teeth.... Wait, no, there was the explanation. Still, the memories couldn't be wiped from her mind. She would have to fight.... And it would have to be based on instinct, to make all this worse. The red yearling didn't at all want to fight, and she was actually going to just step down and GIVE it to her; until a strange feeling rose from her belly. The warmth spread through her, nice at first, but it raised in temperature until soon it was too much for her to stand in place.... Her pride, anger, or perhaps both. She fidgeted her paws and found herself sizing up Flora. The wolfdog was taller, but Grace hoped that her pure wolf blood would give her the strength needed. Her muscles flexed beneath her soft russet pelt, speckled pink by scars. She couldn't be sure what kind of a canine she was mixed with, but it surely didn't look like a cuddler. Though fear danced deep in her eyes, she gave the liver female a hot glare and found herself nodding even though her head was screaming no. Her body immediately slid into one of defence, hunched low and head hanging as to cover any vital spots, three good legs stabilizing her and even her not so good one shielding. It would be an issue, right? Maybe not, on a second remembrance of Nova's lessons, if she hiked it up the way she did when she was hunting! It would give her the same speed and ability to move as Flora, but it was also another thing to concentrate on.