[Training] [se] running in place

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

“Agreed,” he snickered – not quite the analogy his friends and himself had when they’d first started, but it certainly carried the same affect. The Sword’s gaze pinpointed on one of the guards readying himself to begin climbing, narrowing his eyes slightly at the recruit started off well initially, then began to slip by the third tier – waiting to see how he’d catch himself or start the modest tumble downwards. He managed it, and his buddies down below gave a few claps – Deimos scoffed with a mild snort, before returning his attention back to Tal.

Head tilting in that vaguely feline or canine way, he caught a name he didn’t recall as anything familiar. “Boreal? Is that a companion?” Or perhaps a coworker, depending on the state of things. That he managed sled dogs made sense, given the area they traversed; and he permitted a light laugh at the excitement, the pride, seeming to buoy and emanate.

The question made his eyes widen for a moment, before another chuckle roared through – this one quite a bit louder, exuding and echoing off the frames of the barracks. “No. I have not.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But I often travel across the tundra as a hellhound.” Which, probably didn’t count.

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead