A call had risen into the air, a curious thing to the young lad who had been poking around the cliffs of the mountains. He had grown bored with the same thing over and over. Young puppy games had lost their excitement and his siblings had spread to the wind, or they had grown up and had lives outside of themselves and the mountains. Sila had followed their mother into the arts of healing and his father was retiring his advisory role to settle down. And so, Baird had been left with a mind and a body far too active and nothing to do. Chasing mice just simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. Training though, that held promise. Getting to his large paws he began padding in the direction Sleekwing’s call had come.

He arrived just in time for the Castillian to begin his speech and with each word, a dark wolf brow raised. It sounded as though what the grey was saying was a challenge to the weak of heart. His lip twitched. Baird was anything but. In the two years of his life he had little opportunity to prove himself to anyone around him, but with the blood that ran through his veins there was little doubt he would make something of himself. His body had slowly started to fill out, growing into its own and showing signs of aptitude for hunting and battle. Coupled with his father’s intelligence, and his mother’s caring for the world he would be a force to be reckoned with.

He listened to the elder’s speech and sat down resolutely in front of the Castillian. No one would claim he was a coward. The corner of his lip twitched up and his honeyed eyes glinted. In his mind there was more to this challenge than just what Sleekwing had to say. Quietly he waited for his training to begin, or for others to arrive, or both. Apparently his father’s tendency to talk had skipped the pup. But it was clear from the look on his face his mind was racing.