Redsand Canyon temeritas

Aquillius was getting stronger.

And with his strength growing, his silences grew longer too. He was never a boy destined for many words, and even his shrieking displeasures as a child had silenced as he entered training under his father’s eye.

The boy turned his eyes to Germanicus when he spoke, giving the older man a sharp nod. He wouldn’t fail, not this. He was born to do such a thing, to push and push until he could do no more.

His legs wobbled, but the boy did as asked, pushing across the sand, remembering to put his shoulder into it this time.

He would probably bounce off, as most coltish boys were want to do when going up against a far more muscled opponent, but it was the thought that counted, truly.