Still fairly chuffed from her self-indulgent thoughts of chasing off an intruder (when in reality, he'd really let her off easy), Blueberry sought out
@Bronco, hoping to find him with some spare time. Truthfully, no one had much spare time, what with starting a pack and all.
And she'd tried to chip in as much as possible, lending her scent to the borders, digging caches, snaring small game, et cetera.
But there was this yawning void within her she couldn't quite satisfy. She couldn't stop hearing Fennec's voice:
"Is that something you're into?"
Because—what
was she into?
Bronco. She was into Bronco. But he was just a man, and she knew she needed more. She grasped at memories, trying to remember when she was most proud of herself. Catching the fish with that man, that was close. But honestly, driving away that hulking man—
Teach me to fight,
Blueberry told Bronco when she'd finally found him, adding, sheepishly,
But only if you're, um, not too busy right now.
Despite the fact that they'd not been able to locate any other of her family members, Blueberry seemed to be settling in pretty well in the Emberwood, as far as he could tell. She was always all smiles and charm, bubbly and eager to please. So even when he wondered if she was lonely or missed having others her age around, he felt simultaneously fairly convinced that she actually was happy, every time he saw her.
Her evergreen enthusiasm made him feel hopeful. She was shaping up to be an excellent pack member, doing whatever she could to contribute, and doing so with a smile. He failed to notice that more often than not, that smile was directed more at him than anyone else, but he responded all the same by being pleased with her.
He would never have expected her to request a fighting lesson. His face went blank and he froze for a moment. His mind raced.
Did she think he liked to fight because of his scars?
Had he told her before that he'd give her lessons?
Did Fennec mention to her that he used to be forced into fights with his mother?
Did she think he liked fighting because he had all those scars?
Was it just because of the way he looked?
Suddenly very self-conscious, he swallowed hard and passed a very dry tongue over his lips. "I, uh," He rasped. His throat was so dry. He scooped up a mouthful of snow and swallowed it down, hoping it would help.
Why did she want to learn?
Why now? Had something happened?
Did she meet someone that made her feel like she needed to know how to fight?
Too many questions buzzing around in his mind. He couldn't figure out which question was appropriate to ask, and he didn't want to disappoint her, either. Not when he did have the time to spend with her, and not when she'd been doing so well to help the pack get settled. "I'm, uh, not m-much good at it." He admitted, softly. He tried to use humour to deflect. "Y'know. Good fighters, well they...They don't end up quite this, uh," He said, tilting his head to the side a bit. Scars, everywhere, from his jaw to his brow. "Y'know?" A weak smile, as what he hope sufficed as a gentle discouragement.
Her happy, self-confident attitude melted like ice in the sun at Bronco's reticence, and it only got worse as he grew more nervous. She shrank into herself, ashamed for making him feel like. . .this. Even his smile did not help; she stared at him, blue eyes wide and mournful, her face dismayed.
I'm sorry,
Blueberry managed, once he'd stopped stammering. I didn't—I mean, I didn't mean to make you upset. I just. . .wanted to learn from you. I didn't even—
I hadn't noticed your scars. Or she had, rather, but hadn't seen them as anything to be ashamed of. Her parents had been similarly marked; she'd thought nothing of his mangled appearance. It was just life, right? She imagined she would end up so tattered.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. It's okay; you don't have to,
she murmured, then increased her volume a tad. I drove off an intruder the other day. He was big. We didn't fight but I told him to 'fuck off.' I just—next time, I guess, I might not be so lucky. I should know how to fight.
”N-No, it’s OK,” He tried to interrupt her apology, as her shock seemed to have made her very self-aware. ”It’s OK, really.” He reassured her. It was obvious she felt terrible for pushing him into an uncomfortable place, but he wouldn’t hold it against her. She was young, and had no idea what fights he’d fought, and why he was so opposed to fighting.
But the gentleness of his features faded when she admitted that she’d come up against an intruder- a large one, who fortunately had left when she’d told him off. But she was right- not every wolf would be so forgiving. ”Hmm. Well, at least he was thinking straight, and left when you told him to, but still,” Concern laced his voice. He still was not interested in teaching Blueberry- or anyone, for that matter- how to fight. But he had other resources. ”I think I’ve sparred with Fig, back in the day.”a He said. He remembered the day Figment had knocked him off Penn, who he’d had pinned to the ground. Fennec was also a capable fighter- but perhaps too severe. She might teach Blueberry in the same way She’d learned from Niamh, and Bronco wasn’t interested in continuing that legacy. ”He’s pretty soft, sure, but I bet he’d be a good teacher for you.” He suggested.
Relief flooded her as he assured her it was fine, but she still felt quite awful. Whatever had happened to him had clearly shaken the golden-brown man, and she didn't want to dredge anything up that brought back those memories. She was even more relieved, then, when he shifted the conversation to Figment.
Hmm, yeah, I suppose that could work,
Blueberry replied, nodding solemnly. Fennec seemed pretty fierce, too, but. . . Well. She didn't really want to embarrass herself sparring with the woman. She was insecure enough already that she had a firm grasp on Bronco.
She cocked her head. If you're not really a fighter, then what do you like to do?
she asked. The question was innocent enough, though she took care to keep her voice soft, praying that it didn't upset him further.
She looked disappointed, which made him feel a bit guilty but he felt it was for the best. She’d learn very little from him, he was sure of it, and he didn’t want for Fennec to turn her into a fighting machine even if it did mean that maybe she’d be better equipped to fight for herself.
His features brightened a bit when the topic changed. He shrugged. He was grateful to not be talking about fighting but he didn’t necessary love being the centre of attention either. ”I dunno, hunting, I guess? But probably just because I like eating…I always liked taking care of my younger siblings too, so maybe someday I might make a good caretaker or babysitter.” He said, with a shrug. ”Eatin’ food and babysitting. Life goals are to be as soft as possible I guess,” He said with a faint laugh.