Swiftcurrent Creek Arrowtooth eel

A spar… that was refreshing to hear.

The yearling straightened his back and leaned forward to stretch himself out. A wide yawn opened his mouth to reveal pearly fangs. The last few times he had been able to spar had been with Germanicus or Moss. The most he had done with Arric had been chatting about their respective duties or discussing what the pups would need from him.

Aye, we can spar, Swordfish agreed. As he turned to search for a good space for their exercise, the young wolf’s scarred ribs caught the warmth of the sun. His wounds had healed with the help of the nearby packs. The pink-flesh remnant of them would never leave.