Fang 41

Oh, Wow...

     As Claw 58 was released from her fantasies, she finally directed her gaze to her new charge.
She did so, and suddenly her fantasies which had been covered in a golden glaze shattered into reality, and the burning pain from her ear increased tenfold.

Before her stood the scrawniest, most pathetic-looking creature she had ever seen. She'd seen the hunting parties drag in carcasses with more meat on their bones in the freeze-bone seasons. And this living carcass awaiting the crows was her Fang. For a long moment, he stood frozen in terror at the prospect of having to stand with so many eyes on him. He finally stepped forward tentatively, clutching his silver robe, and gave a fearful sniff of greeting.
"Umm, hello, it's a... Uh it's a real neat to *whimper*... -t to meet you!" He quickly nodded his head. 41 suddenly took fervent interest in the ground as he nervously wrung his silver clothes.
"Fang, your band." The whelp glanced at the old wolf and slipped off his yellow band. He jumped slightly to attempt at delivering it to the leader, but it fell short. 58 sighed and moved forward to fling the band to the waiting paws of the older wolf.
"41, your band looks slightly different than that of your Claw, here. In addition to your number charm, you also have a silver circle for your status as a Fang instead of a silver band." His gaze switched to 58 and suddenly became gravely serious. "At this point I am certain that you have noticed 41 is a special case among Fangs. This is why I am assigning you to him, you understand what it means to be unlike your clan-kin. I speak not only for myself, but for the rest of the Fang Clan, that you are being heavily counted upon to protect one of our own, just as with any other Fang. Even if he never becomes a warrior, you must protect him, as the blood of the moon does indeed flow through his veins." He held her gaze with a grip that was almost suffocating for what seemed like ages. How in the hell was she supposed to protect this runt? Tears welled in her eyes as she held his suffocating gaze with frustration, her fury the only thing that kept her from crumbling under it's onslaught. When Old-Fang felt he'd made his point, he relinquished his grip. Little clapping and nigh cheers sounded as the new pair made their way to the rows of initiated trainees.
One of the crows in the rows next to them whispered; "Tough crowd? I wouldn't exactly call myself and expert on the subject, but might I  suggest you leave the facetious hoopla to the pandas and such? I mean, don't misunderstand me, the freak show was hilarious, it's just that you maybe should share the joke so that their house is shamed, not yours. It'd be a downright shame if House Claw were to be discovered and demoted from its loftily shaded position..." The beginnings of his beak curled as far as they were allowed in a mirthful smirk.
58 snarled with indignation, this crow was annoying but he was inerrant. Claw 58 genuinely despised it when this bag of feathers was right. It was no secret outside of the Fangs that her clan wasn't as noble as was made out to be, however, no proof had ever been discovered. She snarled about as threateningly as one can when under the unerring gaze of the entire city. It didn't really amount to much, and only seemed to serve in amusing the Shadow.

"Quiet yourself, 60, or I'll smash your beak into the rocks. Don't forget I survived a duel with Old-Fang." She muttered between clenched teeth.
Number 60 sneered "Oh? But I'm afraid Claws most often use their... well... claws. My apologies if I'm a tad in disbelief that a spear without its keenly-edged portion should worry me. It's just, I'm pretty sure I can take a plain old quarterstaff. And didn't you notice how the old wolf was faking it?"58 mentally searched into the deepest recesses of her mind for reasons not to force this spit-mouth to shut his beak. Unfortunately, the only thing she could think of perhaps would be looked down upon slightly by Old-Fang. She tore her seething gaze towards the activity. Unfortunately, however, 60 had not deemed their argument over. "Did you get the Fang that was a dud? Does he need to learn how to drink his milk? I mean this in the most respectful ways of course". 58 growled, but remained still other than the flicking of her torn ear-it had begun to itch, too.
Weighing her options, 58 felt that she'd been the object of attention by Old-Fang enough for lifetime. For now, the bird's beak-breaking could wait.