As was usually his way, Zharko studied Blackthorne in his presence. Between the two of them, the smaller silver was far quieter and unsuspecting in his power. Whereas Blackthorne could easily throw his weight around, Zharko had to be far more selective about the battles he fought. Thorne’s poking and prodding rarely perturbed the boy, knowing that if he reacted too much, or too harshly, Thorne’s wrath would be all the greater. So instead he simply watched and listened. It was the greatest lesson he had learned being left to his own devices.

It took effort to suppress a tremor through his body. Glorall was where Zafira was, contrary to his desire to try to get her someplace away from Blackthorne. Zharko refused to allow too much emotion to play across his face and features, only allowing his attentive ears to train on Blackthorne, listening for his further commands. A sly smirk played across his lips. Careful. A quiet warning. ’Glorious Eden’ might be able to pick up that tone from here. Zharko’s own voice was smooth and neutral, adopting his father’s cunning traits.

He got to his paws, the only show of compliance he felt he needed to give. Of course he would obey Blackthorne, and of course he would follow his orders to the best of his ability. Training Natiya would be a task of balance. It was true he was not as harsh as Blackthorne was, but this was part of the training he wanted. A subtlety in swiftness and intelligence as opposed to pure brute force. As far as being useful to Eden, as the moved towards Glorall he had to mull that over in his thoughts. Most wolves would not see ‘useful’ in one so small.