Fortunately the silver-dusted yearling had responded well to his defeat, and while Cyril’s veins were pumping with adrenaline, the Kael-Santoro felt oddly humbled by the experience. He felt capable and, for the first time in a long time, useful. Maybe this had been the kick in the butt Cyril had needed to get his act together and stop being so … mopey. He doubted it, but it was a good start.
His yellow pools had focused on his mother as she had approached them, a faint smile gracing his dark features. Congratulations. His cheeks flushed warm beneath her praise as he pressed a soft lick to her chin, his ears folding neatly atop the back of his crown. More powerful? The corners of his mouth tightened for a moment before falling into a crooked grin, his expression turning sheepish. Nah, he quipped back with a sharp wag of his tail. But he did—sort of. It was a strange feeling, one that he was certainly unfamiliar with, but it wasn’t horrible. It made him feel invincible, even though he knew very well that he was, in fact, very fragile.