His determination had always been quiet, even during his birth. It had always been there, though. For whatever reason, he had the fight to live - and to live well. Consciously, it had never entirely occurred to him that others might not have seen that determination or, worst yet, wanted him dead for something he had no control over. He had not chosen to be born in such a way, or with such a leg. It had merely been part of his entrance into the world, preordained by something he did not understand. He had hoped that they'd see passed the leg. He had hoped that they'd see him for what he was: somebody trying.

That's why he had been so eager to follow his alpha; he had felt looked at and desired. It felt like somebody had finally seen some potential in him, though it might have been such a small, hopeless flicker. It was the same reason he continued up the dune over and over again, uninterrupted by his sister's arrival. Even the arrival of the older wolf did little to sway his steadfast pace; he didn't have the time to stop or to think. He just had to do it. The burn had become something enjoyable; his chest had become heavy, his tongue poking out beyond his black lips to pant as he moved against the grain of the sand. In fact, his attention only shifted when he heard the voice of Samia. They had met briefly, perhaps, and yet she had been one of the few to really notice him. She had played with he and Thor and it had been one of his fondest memories. It made him pause for a moment, turning back to see her; his lip turned up into an inviting grin. He did not wait for his brother to speak. Call him presumptuous but, for now, he wanted to make this decision.

"She can," he called out, his lips pursed as he expected some response and yet, it seemed his brother had no quarrel with such an idea. It made Abel grin wide as he patted the sand with his paws, calling Samia forward to him. It made him feel... strong.

Of course, Keturah had been quick to dismiss that happiness. She snarled and hissed with anger, something Abel had become all too used to. It made his skin prickle and his ears twist back and yet, he tried his hardest to not back away. Instead, he tried to shift himself so that he might protect his friend from his sister's venomous words.

"When I get strong," he began, undeterred by her attempts to get him moving once more, "the first thing I will do is throw you down this hill."

He puffed his chest out, twisting himself so that he could take a stride towards her and place himself properly between she and Samia. He had foolishly felt strong, perhaps, and yet the sensation was all too nice. It ached in his legs to move in such a way, his weight now against his weakened leg and yet, he had done it. He had felt strong. And he wasn't going to let his sister get her way, not easily at least.