Neverwinter Forest He's sick of seldom.

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The Sigma blinked, understandment sketched his thoughtful facial expression. He gave his creamy chest a lick and sat on a curved tree root, facing Dany.

"Well, spars are good practice I suppose. And anyways, a battle wound makes you look tough. Not to mention every scar tells a story. When I was smaller," he began to trail off in memory, "I used to dream of fighting off the neighboring pack single handedly and to show my sucess I would pretend to have twin claw mark scars across my cheekbones. Haha, I think they're cool and unique anyhow."

He sat and waited for the she-wolf to answer, as he sensed a disturbance in the air when he asked of the wound, he hoped his short tale would lighten her mood a bit.
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