Whitefish River daddy's always on the move

He laughed at her remark, though kept his eyes soft on her face, wanting her to know that he wasn't laughing at her but with her. Or, sure, at her. . .but it was with pride in her spirit, her strength, her vigor. Goddamn, he had a spitfire of a daughter, and he wouldn't ever take her for granted again.

Teach me? I thought you'd never ask, he said with a wink, wagging his tail fervently.

Hmmm. . .where to begin? You're a little on the small side right now, and I'm not sure how big you'll get when you're all grown up, he mused, eyes once more drifting over her form. Big wolves like me can get away with being a little clumsy, because we can just knock everyone over, usually. Smaller wolves. . .they have to be smart, and use their speed and brains to their advantage. You have to anticipate your enemy's next move before they make it, and you can't give away what you're thinking, either.

Verx shifted his weight fluidly from one forepaw to the other, like an athlete slow-jogging in place. If I was a threat—like, on the border, trying to get in—what would you do first? Try and stop me, using your speed against my strength.

It was more self-guided than anything else, mainly because he knew Isi had the smarts to handle it. Hell, he was half-expecting having his ass handed to him, and that was a-okay with Vercingetorix. Again, his kid, his legacy.