Dragoncrest Cliffs married to the game

He was no parent. Perhaps in the eyes of a wolf out with Drageda, Dacio would still be considered a child himself. Thrust into the adult ranks at six months of age and forced to grow up much sooner than anticipated, he certainly felt more mature than he really was. The transition from Goufa to Gona had been sudden but smooth, and back then he'd embraced it with pride - now, following the repetition of misfortune in his life since, he often wished he could return to the simpler times of his childhood.

Had Grimnismal not been uprooted by the beast that ravaged the coast, Dacio and his sisters could have been born amid their conflict. He always thought it was the way of Drageda; they were soldiers, bred for that purpose, expected to prepare for battle by training that begun at infancy. He frowned deeply at the Cheka's comment regarding normality, because he believed that no matter where they'd go, they couldn't escape who they were.

He could see the conflict on Vercingetorix' face, and found himself wondering if he would feel this way had the topic not been surfaced by the pallid Skayona. He bristled slightly, suddenly resenting her for planting the seed of doubt in his mind, a doubt that Drageda was incapable of defending their own. "You know what it means to leave," Dacio said, stony gaze lifting to seek the platinum of his comrade's own, "could you live with the shame? Of knowing you've abandoned us? Of shedding your name and marking yourself as natrona?" Because he didn't know if he could. He didn't know how anyone could.