#thread: potentially deadly wolf lessons (riding +1)

[sayhwaet]

Beowolf considered himself to be steady in the saddle, a solid hand on the pommel of any warhorse or racing mount, and he'd had his fair share of experience with all breeds, and shapes, and sizes. Made life difficult if you couldn't get the upper hand on such a huge tract of land as the Agustrian countryside, and made it easier to turn tail and book it if you were familiar with all kinds of mounts. 

None o' that flying shit, though. That turned his stomach. 

So when he'd arrived at the monastery and found its stables well stocked and filled with not just horses of all shapes and sizes, but also a variety of animals primed for riding, he'd had a grand ol' time touring about and making himself acquainted. 

He could not help himself when he laughed at the prospect of riding a wolf, and had poked his head in on a recent seminar, listening to the pros talk about these feral beasts the same way he'd seen fancy men talk to their horses. But, oh, the difference in stature was clear, and it seemed to him, watching the beasts move, that these things could book it in terrain that he'd ever only dreamed of. 

As he approached for the follow-up seminar, he didn't suppose he could be too terribly surprised that attendance had dropped dramatically. 

"Some wacky shit, ain't it?" He said with a grin to the dark skinned woman rubbing the ruff of a wolf. As it clicked that she was to be the day's instructor, he whistled, low and appreciative. "You ride these things where you're from? Hat's off, girl." 

potentially deadly wolf lessons