The boy is talented. She is constantly surprised by how quickly he picks up on the things that her father and him teach him—how fluidly he shifts, how quickly he learns the things he can shift into. There is seemingly no limit to what he can learn and how he can manipulate his own body, and she finds that she is endlessly fascinated by the ways that he uses it to his own advantage. The tricks he pulls so seamlessly.
He surprises her by shifting and her nose twitches when she realizes that she no longer hears the footfalls behind her—at least not as many as before. She catches the blur of movement out of the corner of her eye and drops low to the ground, feeling his dulled claws rush against her back. Pleased more than anything, she lets out a roar and twists to snap her jaws in the air by him, knowing she wouldn’t make purchase.
When he hops off and leaps, she shifts herself, stepping forward as her equine self. She shakes her mane out on both sides of an impossibly scar-less neck, the roping tangles falling somewhat elegantly despite the dirt and the blood in them. Her lips twitch into a shadow of a smile as she considers the boy.
“Is that so?” Something like humor sparks in her silver eyes. “You must be terrifying when we are all sleeping.” There is nothing of rebuke in her tone though—nothing to signify that she is displeased that the boy had managed to grab onto her back or surprised her. She is pleased, after all, to see just how well he is learning—pleased to know that he was stepping into the same role of his parents, if not better.
She flashes her gaze to Risk and it lingers for a second, something like a secret on her lips before she turns back to their son. “What else have you been doing while we are sleeping?”
she said a war ain't a war before both sides bleed