Redhawk Caldera No protest from me.

It was good to see that the boy wouldn't give up. That trait alone - that drive - was very important to anyone wanting to be a real warrior. But Nightjar still didn't have what it took to grab Njal's tail. He wasn't quite fast enough. There was power in the child, a bulk that could be trained and used later in life, and likely would be his prime asset, but not enough speed, and no precision to speak of. Njal knew that the boy would fail his second attempt even as he braced for it, and the old wolf ignored the feignt as easily as Nightjar had ignored his earlier comments; the boy's teeth grazed the fur of Njal's hip before snapping at air.


This kid had something. Njal wasn't quite sure what that something was, yet. But his interest was piqued. He was reminded of a certain fiery girl from his days in Kindred, and the fond memory took him away from the game he was playing. It was brief, but left Njal open for a third attack from Nightjar - and it was entirely possible that the proven warrior's drifting mind would play out to the advantage of Nightjar. It felt right to be playing this game - it felt right that Njal was teaching a younger generation something such as this. The way that Sterntooth had once taught him, through trial and error.