Blacktail Deer Plateau Not your son, Not your friend

Last post for me! :)

"...Where my best tasks lie," Valtýr echoed quietly with a pensive look. Currently, he was about as useful as a rock. He could recall a time Tuwawi had brought an injured bird to the den so that her children may practice hunting and Valtýr, so moved by its blighted condition, cried on its behalf. Any prowess eluded him, from hunting to healing, and even he did not know where his talents lied. Dante had a point. Finding a life course would give the youth some purpose... but the task was daunting for the little Sveijarn,

"Okay," he told his new alpha, a tentative conviction in his voice. Defending the pack... hunting for his peers. Would he be capable of such great deeds someday? The waif gave a small nod to Dante, wanting so badly to say 'I won't let you down,' but lacking the confidence to do so. "I will learn," he said, settling upon an optimistic promise in lieu of a stronger dogma.