Ankyra Sound i pray in latin

the second attempt is as wobbly as the first. scarab tries to stand up too fast and splays out like a young fawn sliding on ice as his legs give out on him. he lets out a low rumble of discontent. this wasn't acceptable. he wants to stand. he focuses on rosalyn's blurred shape as she encourages him, at least that's what he thinks the undecipherable words are meant to be.

there's a tone she uses, made out weakly by hearing that is still poor, that further sparks the flame of determination in his chest. he tries again, slower this time, wobbling again but catches his weight before his legs can topple out from under him again and slowly pushes himself onto all four paws. he teeters a bit, unsteadily, but finds that the more he stands there testing the distribution of weight he becomes more stabilized. a paw lifts hesitantly and then another, moving him towards rosalyn at an uncertain and wobbly pace.