Doran processed that without having full context for what it meant and still understood from the tone that it mattered. "Good," he said, and went to get his wooden sword with the straightforward practicality that was his default response to information he couldn't fully categorize.
The stag was at his side.
Seven days old as a contract. Still forming, still unhurried, still looking at everything with those silver eyes that catalogued and retained. In a week it had grown noticeably. Not large yet, the antler formation still clearly incomplete, but the velvet was developing structure and the dark coat had deepened.
It looked at Orion when he approached for the footwork session.
Looked at him the way it had at the ceremony. Like it was taking notes.
"Still doing that," Orion said to it.
The stag's ear moved forward.
"It does that to everything," Doran said. "I've started calling it data collection."
"Smart name for a smart beast," Orion said.
