Broken Antler Fen with scarves of red tied 'round their throats

Oh, but he was already watching.

Dacio observed from a distance, watching with keen pastel eyes and dark ears cupped forward, as both his young ward and an unfamiliar juvenile seemed to stare one another down. He could tell by posture alone that the intentions of the strange girl were clear: she would not accept Praimfaya's assertion of dominance.

The ashen warrior was pressing on toward the duo just before one darted forward, closing the distance between him and them at a rangy trot. Considering the aspiring Wanheda's absence of pups her own age to train alongside, this could be a perfect opportunity to hone her fighting skills with the use of a more suitable opponent. Dacio's hackles pricked though figured would allow this, at least until the need arose to interfere.

It seemed Praimfaya's father did not share the same mindset, however, as he came charging onto the scene with a different purpose. "Enough!" Dacio barked his demand in his native tongue without consideration for Ingram, who may not know enough Trig to understand. The upward arch of his tail and curl of his lip was sure to communicate his desire to take control of the situation, however, and he veered to place himself directly among the group that had gathered.