Swiftcurrent Creek something has to shift

her confidence brings a small, if not terse, smile to panther's scarred face as he ponders if he was that confident as a child. she was a product of her youth: unsullied by the horrors of war, both during and after ...because war follows those who know it home. once it's vitriolic taste is know, it never leaves. this, panther feels in the marrow of his bones. this, he knows, is seen on the scars that mar his handsome face, in the scars that ravage his neck and throat. good. he rasps, content. he would not spoil her enthusiasm — nor was panther all that fond of sounding contradicting.

her question, however, takes him by surprise though it does not linger upon his blemished visage for long. panther's taken aback — briefly — but composes himself a moment later, the sheepishness lingering perhaps a moment longer than he would like it to. teach you to fight? he inquires, lifting his glacial gaze from her to the horizon, making a show of mulling it over. hmm, he tarries playfully.

ah, i think i can fit it into my schedule. he tells her with a sage nod and a small, perhaps impish smile curling the edges of his lips.