I can't repair the damage done {Tähti}

[Wolfbane]

If it was practise Longclaw wanted, then practise he would get. The bitter old man had snarled his distaste at Wolfbane's apparent lack of "flapping" and that had been just enough to irritate the growing stallion into doing exactly just that.

Gangly, still growing into the lanky bones and flesh his parents had bestowed on him, Wolfbane was somewhere between 'cute' and 'handsome'. His body couldn't decide, and neither could he (not that he thought much about others opinions anyways.) What he did know was that there were three loves in his life; His dam, Tephra, and his Wings. To think that his sire, Longclaw, believed that he was wasting their usefulness just went to show how distant he and his son had become in the past few months.

Wolfbane used his wings almost always, much like he was using them now - to catch a slight breeze off the shore of Tephra and drift away into it.

Flying long distance was out of the question. The great, white appendages flexing over his hide were yet unmatured, just like him. They could lift and soar, bank against an updraft and keep him from spiraling into the ground, but they simply weren't strong enough yet for hours of endless work. It might take him another year or two before he could be comfortable going from one end of Beqanna to another.

But he was pushing himself, daily. Flying from the Tephran shores back to the mainland was almost too simple lately. If he went south from there he could coast for a while, perhaps touch down in the Field or Meadow. Today, though, his father's ungrateful lashings rang hot in his ears and prompted him to turn North, to push himself harder than he had before until, exhausted, he'd careened downward to land in what he assumed was River territory.

It was the farthest he'd ever been. Sweat soaked his belly and neck, pooled between his wings as he folded them neatly to his sides, and stuck to his rump as he moved forward through the sparse grass in search of fresh water. Every now and then, the pale sunlight would catch on his iridescent stripes and leave him glittering; a fine, blue contrast to the golden palomino color of his coat. He was only lucky that his mane wasn't like the others - hanging limply on his neck - instead it stood upright, much like a fjord's but bone white, through and through.

Panting, Wolfbane didn't give much thought to anyone else until a rustle nearby gave him reason to pause. "Hello?" He called out, one foot lifted in suspense as he waited tensely for a reply. When none replied, his dark lips parted to loose an animal snarl and to reveal his growing fangs; a light threat. "Is anyone there?" He tried again, wondering if he still had reserve strength to escape an attack ...

OOC: @[Tähti] Bear with me, I need to make him HTML