Sawtooth Spire to endure steadfastly;

She probably thought he was stupid now. Stag blushed under his slate fur, looking away as Praimfaya's soft laugh filled the glade. Eager to move past, he only nodded at her suggestion to move past the borders.

His steps were slow as they walked. He didn't love the spotlight on him, but if he was to learn, he had to endure it. And be honest. He didn't know a single thing about fighting.

Fun fact: Stag had lived to be exactly One Year Of Age without ever having fought. The last time he had been aggressive, he'd cracked his dome on a tree. He knew nothing, Stag Snow.

"Umm.." He shifted uncomfortably, eyes averted. How could the son of Stigmata be such a meekling milksop? "I don't know anything about any of that stuff." He admitted, quick to insert: "I just haven't had the chance. I do a lot of patrolling, and some baby sitting.. and.. No one ever spars with me here."