Redsand Canyon I'm standing on your porch screamin' out

Soldiers. Discipline. The words triggered unwanted memories of his father. He was supposed to train under Siarut to become a soldier of Easthollow, but obviously those plans had gone down the drain with the fall of the pack and the death of his remaining family. 

The mesa had seemed unreal to the northern. It had been a nice vacation from his real life, but he knew he could not live there. He feared it would make him complacent and soft. Of course, he would have stayed within Jawahir's cave forever if that was possible, but it wasn't. He had to come back to the real world. But he understood what the canyon wolf was implying. 

I was supposed to be a soldier, he said. The words spilled out without his permission. He cleared his throat a little. But that was a long time ago, before my family was gone. He sighed. Now what I've learned has been through necessity for my own survival. Nothing like the honed skills I was promised as a child. He was surprisingly bitter about it, but he never stopped long enough to actually feel his emotions, and so he was just now realizing it.