Crowe smiled happily as he gazed upon the spotless wooden floor of the empty room. All that really stood in there was a rack of weapons brought in from his own stall, some dummies and a rather strange wolf in the middle.

Thank the Maker that Winter is coming back, stop bleeding gettin all my hairs on the damn floor!

He eyed the hairs on his one good arm, the other firmly holding his side, making sure that the hairs stayed where they were or they would meet Mr Hoover.

Sighing, he stroked his scars on his face gently, reminiscing on his life briefly, which mainly involved him getting hurt. A lot. Well he was still going (somehow) and now he was a respected (well he hoped) teacher here to bestow his knowledge on fighting and what to not call a dragon.

The wolf was basically flesh stuck to scars and metal with a carpet wrapped round it all; the left arm was synthetic to the shoulder, no fur, with scars on st least 40% of his body. He clapped the hands together, the right one regretting this instantly as he bit his lip tightly.

No classes with tonight's party was coming very soon and he couldn't wait for Eclipse's surprise dress, and try we're both together whilst the twins had a nannie. Grinning wolfishly, he flicked a some hairs off the weapons with the left hand then stepped out and for a potentially dangerous walk.

The sound of weapons crashing together onto a wooden floor followed by a distant curse from a certain wolf in the city somewhere.

Retirement....Never thought I'd see the day.

The wolf grumbled as he leaned comfortably (well tried to) in the stiff wooden chair, his butt dead now from splinters and lack of a good cushion. Smiling softly, he was grateful that it was his butt that was dead and not himself...he liked being alive. You could do more.

Leaning steadily back, he watched his students perform their usual routine: Practise sword fights with one another whilst mocking one another like teenagers do. They had matured an he was proud, the humans were getting on with the other races such as the lupe and vice versa. Glancing briefly down at his desk, an envelope sat on its lonesome in front of him, the envelope neat with the words in fine, midnight black pen,

To Mr Crowe Thorne And the usual address stuff to the classroom. Tearing the top with a claw, he cautiously pulled it out (it could be a trap!) and peered curiously at the letter within, struggling to read the fancy words at first but mouthed them as he went...

Dear Crowe Thorne,

Due to your blah, blah, blah it was the usual congratulations letter, simple and kind but there was something odd. The words such as Responsibility were used often and towards the end he read, eyes widening slowly to the size of dinner plates, Oh.

Yours sincerely, Fiona O Neill

Crowe gulped, his mind buzzing and steaming like a furry robot, the cogs and gears of that battered brain whirring furiously until a silver flag flew above him and planted itself into the wall behind him. Briefly glancing at the blade dug into the wall, he sighed, pulled it out easily and handed it to his blushing student, his voice blank, thoughts elsewhere,

"Make sure you hold it with two hands Thomas, now run along, I'll be there soon and be careful."

Suddenly he grasped for a pen and paper and hastily scribbled some words, bit his lip, crumpled the paper and began again, slower and controlled.

This was big...real big!