Ankyra Sound the horseman

Once again, the ghost was met with fire and rage that spilled from the young wolf's mouth like lava and spittle. He dared Kierkegaard to speak ill of him again, but the mercenary was not keen on the back and forth, so he eyed the pale wolf with disinterest until something shifted dramatically between the two of them. It seemed that all of Arrille was falling into a different persona, and it took Kierkegaard by such surprise, that he did not manage to catch the first few bits of his words in the process. His mind raced in an attempt to wrap around what he had heard, but when Arrille had finished, he did not truly know what he was supposed to say. Not even a hint of pride had touched his gut, though it should have.

“Fathers who leave aren't worth your time,” he said with a swift bob of his skull. “You take all that aggression and you turn yourself into something unstoppable. Don't waste it on the small shit; use it for what matters.” The ragged man looked at the younger wolf and realized that somehow, he had managed to speak heartfelt truth, and in spite of his dislike for the hotheaded youth, Arrille had procured some practical advice from the old man. It struck him as something remarkable, but he would not voice this to his present company.