AARYN
There was no shifting to beast form for the disformed. When Garthe came at him, it was pure combat. And Aaryn was ready.
Reth had been training him and Elreth since he was twelve and she'd brought him home from that group of wolves, bruised and embarrassed. His own father had been dead since he was four, and his mother wasn't a fighter. He'd strengthened as best he could as a cub. But he was more aggressive than skilled.
Until he trained.
Then he'd learned the value of discipline. And strategy.
While lions hunted in prides and made use of their numbers, wolves hunted in packs that could communicate even at distance. He'd yearned as a young cub to join the training of the youth who could shift, to learn the strategies and teamwork they grew up knowing like breathing.
