Sinclair Blackwood
Sinclair made an overture with the person he was sparring with, a pack warrior in his forties who had fought in the battle against a much larger enemy many years before. He had lost a limb in the battle but it did not stop him from throwing Sinclair to the ground. Sinclair quickly turned the move around and the man fell on his back grunting in pain.
“Was I too hard? I’m sorry.” He put out a hand and helped the man up, but his prosthetic leg had fallen off. He helped him back down and reattached the fallen limb before helping him up again.
“Where did you learn to look like you had mentally disengaged from the battle only to fall your enemy.” Sinclair laughed out loud, throwing his head back in abandon as he knew he had really been out of it. He’d called and sent text
