Big Salmon Lake Be my Yoko Ono

The boy talks up a brief summarization of how he recived the marks when defending a freind of his. It was an admirable feat, one that Āzon couldn't help but chuff a smile at, but an enviable one all the same. To have a trait in which defending those you loved came first was something the brute was once too deep in his father's conquerous mind set to understand — but now that Judal was gone, confusion was no more. If only he'd stayed by his side, even if it meant dragging his brother away in order to save his life, then maybe he didn't have to enter the Teekon's alone...

As if Āzoniol wasn't already stuck in an uncomfortable moment of time, his lake side companion soon shifted the conversation and brought up his own scars. An almost horrified look appeared on Āzon's face at the mention, turning his head left and right to look at himself and realize that the rainfall from above had revealed the very thing which haunted him. The majority of these scars — as much as Āzon wished for them to be ones earned in battle, were not. Instead, they were simply reminders of his father's untamed rage towards any form of disobedience from his children. Though that was not a tale he wished to tell. A simple: "Yes, lots of fighting..." was all that was mustered while shifting his gaze away uncomfortably.

Several seconds of deathly silence later and the white sire would stand back to his feet, turning back to face the yearling. "Sounds to me like you're tougher than you look kid. How about a spar? Just you and me." There we go; a quick attempt to change the subject. Hopefully an effective one too...