Cracking twigs and rustling leaves accompanied an otter as he tromped though the brush of Mossflower Woods. It followed him as he plodded along, an ash stave in one paw, and his son's paw in the other. The two were walking to their special place, a secret place known only to the father and his son.

It was a small clearing in the woods, shaded and cool on the hottest days of the summer season. The River Moss passed by it, lazing along as it had since before anybeast could remember. It was indeed a special place. The father, whose name was Kilthin, had been teaching his son there, just as his father had before. Every otter needed to know how to defend his holt. Kilthin's son was, of course, no exception.
"Are you ready today?" The father asked, helping his son over a log that lay rotting in their path. The younger otter nodded, taking a small swipe at a passing butterfly. "Gonna fight, papa?"
Kilthin chuckled and pulled his son up, setting the young otter on his shoulders. "Yes Juvi, today we fight. It's important for you to learn these skills, just as my father taught them to me. You are no longer a dibbun, and such skill will prove useful for when you are grown and married, with a family to protect"
Juvi wrinkled his face up as he spoke, resolve in the squeaky voice. "Married? I'm not gonna' get married. Females are icky. They wear dresses an' put flowers in their fur so they smell nice."
Kilthin's laughter rang out, scurrying a flock of magpies from a nearby oak. "What about your mother?" he asked with a slight chuckle. "Do you think she's icky?"
Juvi gave his father's ear a tug. "Momma's not icky. She's different. She fights just like you do. When bad beasts come around, she kicks them in the tail and makes them run away."

Mossflower got thicker as the two continued on. Juvi busied himself by slapping away the low hanging branches that tickled his nose and brushed through his headfur. The smells of forest were thick in the air, and everything seemed to be slightly damp. The woven mat of twigs and leaves beneath them made a pleasant sound as Kilthin walked, familiar to him. "It won't be long now. I know where we are."
Juvi stopped fussing on his father's shoulders and sat very still. The whining drone of insects that had followed them all the way during their trek had died away, and through the trees Kilthin could hear water running. It was the calm bubbling of the River Moss. Yes, they were so very close.
Another minute or so of walking and the two had broken through the thick bramble into a clearing, bordered by the forest on one side and the River Moss on the other. Juvi scrambled down from his perch and immediately took off running. "C'mon papa! Gonna' swim!"
Kilthin relaxed in the grass near the bank, sprawling out and watching his son race for the cool water. "You go ahead, Juvi. I'm just going to lay here a bit and let my muscles rest. Once I'm ready, then we can start."
Juvi didn't even hear. He was already in the water, splashing about against the sleepy current. Once or twice, he would push himself to the surface and spout water from his mouth, then dive back under and spin crazy loops in the murky water. A small fish darted by, catching Juvi's eye. The young one was off like a shot, his small, rudder-like tail beating furiously. Not partial to being caught, the fish sped away, otter in hot pursuit. Ducking and dodging through the weed-choked river mud, Juvi kept up with his game, not letting the rainbow scales of his prey leave his sight. The fish made a quick turn and headed back through the shallows near the river bank. Juvi followed. Before the young otter could clamp his jaws around the fish's tail, a large paw broke the surface and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "Gotcha!" Kilthin crowed as he hauled his dripping son up from the river and set him down on the shore. "Chasing fish again, I see. It will only tire you out. The fish in this part of the river are quicker than any young otters."
Juvi shook himself off, spraying flecks of water from his shiny coat. "I'm gonna catch a fish from here, just wait and see." Before he could say another word, Juvi found himself back in his father's paws, being carried back to the middle of the clearing.
"Mayhaps you will," Kilthin said, setting his son back down. "But we won't worry about that now. We're going to work on your fighting."
Juvi's face grew a little longer as his father pressed a stave into his paws. The weapon was smaller that Kilthin's, but the wood still felt heavy and uncomfortable. Kilthin took his own stave and moved several paces away. He turned to Juvi and spoke with a reassuring smile, goading his son on. "Ok now Juvi, just like last time. You remember how."
Juvi nodded and adopted his stance, keeping his eyes sharp and letting his thin muscles relax, just like before. He never liked this part, the attacking part. Something always happened to him. He always made a mistake and never seemed to learn from it. Still, Juvi didn't wish to disapoint his father. Learning to defend himself seemed so important, but Juvi coundn't understand just why. He was still young and innocent, grown out of dibbunhood, but very much a child. Juvi figured he would learn these lessons in time.
"C'mon son, don't be frightend," Kilthin said, coaxing the young otter. "You've improved so much since we've started, but there is still a long way for you to go. Now attack me, Juvi."
Swallowing his fear, Juvi took a deep breath and dashed forward. The young otter leapt the last of the way, his stave whistling as it cut through the air. A loud crack echoed out across Mossflower as the two collided. The force stung Juvi's paws, but he held his grip firm and swung the other end of his stave around and back, trying to find an opening in his father's defenses. Kilthin was spry and quick with his counters, knocking away his son's attacks with the blunt end of his stave. Spinning and swinging low, Juvi's body a blur of fawn-colored fur and the off grey of his stave. Again, Kilthin was the quicker. Planting his stave in the ground, Juvi's attack bounced harmlessly off, leaving the young otter open for a counter. Kilthin took the spilt-second advantage and struck, sweeping the opposite end of his stave around and taking Juvi's paws out from under him. With a surprised squeak, Juvi bounced to his tail. Kilthin paused. with a slight smile, he watched as his son pulled himself back up. Juvi rubbed his tail-base gingerly, unable to make eye contact with his father. He had done it again, made another mistake, and ended up on his rump for it. Now he was paying with a tender rear.
Kilthin's voice broke throught the momentary silence, sounding stern in Juvi's ears with just the lapping of the river to mask it. "Juvi, look at me."
Juvi did, bringing eyes up to meet his father's. He expected them to be cold and disapointed, scolding him for his error. What he got was just the opposite. They were soft and warm, and matched Kilthin's smile. What was this? Juvi didn't understand. His father looked to be holding something behind the smile, as though he was hurting.
Kilthin released the grip on his stave and let the weapon fall to the ground. It struck harmlessly against the forest floor, sounding hollow and empty in Juvi's ears. He didn't want to hear, but looked instead.
Kilthin held out his left paw, and Juvi saw it covered in crimson. Blood, seeping from a deep cut right across the top, burying deep through his father's brown fur and turning it the color of mud. Juvi moved forward, taking his father's paw to feel Kilthin tense up and grimace.
"What happened? What hurt you, papa?"
Despite the pain which cut him, Kilthin smiled again, the smile of knowing something another doesn't. "You did, my little Juvi. My fighter. Or were to you fast for yourself? Did you not even see yourself break through?" Juvi looked again, not expecting to see his father's paw to bleed. It still did. "I broke through? But I hurt you. You bleed."
Kilthin knelt as he spoke, forcing eye contact. "Yes.....yes you did, but you opened my eyes as well, showed me what you can do. I'm proud of you, Juvi. So very proud. That is the first strike against me, the first blow you've ever landed. I know you will land many more, and beat me someday. I'm raising a fighter. Now come on and I'll show you how to tend to wounds like this one."
Juvi brightened, admiration for his father showing through his young face as his father stood and led him back to the stream. He showed his son how to wash the wound, to bind it with dock leaves and soft mosses for comfort from pain and infection. So to, knowledge was passed from one generation to the next, from one life to another, from a father to a son.