Redtail Rise the gods give

the atmosphere of the rise was thick with the coming war.

this call to arms was felt in the very marrow of bobcat's bones. yet, he is met with his internal frustration that he is too young. too young to be anything but a liability in battle.

a dragonling not yet a dragon.

all the same, eagerness and instinct urge him to hone natural skill. he 'trains' with a fallen tree trunk, soft from woodrot. it crumbles beneath the force of his bite, still too soft with cubhood. lethal enough to kill small prey: mice and squirrel, maybe rabbit but nothing larger.

not yet.

still, he imagines the rotting tree trunk as the bleeding injured phantom that escaped the rise's bared teeth.