Sleeping Dragon cold harbor

Rebekka grew bored easily. With nothing to hunt, and no skills to communicate, she was at loose ends trying to come up with stuff to do. She had already made some progress learning Gonasleng, but her accent bore deep and it was often to hard to pronounce mostly everything, right. However, she had to earn her keep and did not stop there. If she could not hunt for the pack, and could not contribute verbally, she would earn her trades and work her way there. This proved harder than said. She did not know how to ask to spar, nor the customs in which to do so, so she found herself winging it every time attempted anything.

On this particular day, she found herself quite agitated. More than normal. She could not sit and do nothing. So when a perfectly health stranger walked by, she took the oportuinty. A simple intake of scent told her all she needed to know. He was apart of Drageda and she had nothing to be wary of. However, how she presented herself to him was less inclined to recived a good response. She charged at him, her brow furrowing in dedication to her practice.

"FIGHT ME!"

Her expression and body language suggested she was perfectly serious and about to deliver the storm. How he would respond, she did not contemplate, or she just didn't care. She believed all wolves could spar, and those who couldn't were practically non-existant to her. She was young, and she had much to learn but she was making way on her own and with the determination she had, it would not belong until she got where she wanted to be. She would prove herself to Heda, and she would earn her place rightfully.