Declan had gotten screwed over.
It wasn't really In her nature to habor anger, or harsh feelings of any kind for the matter. The closest she could thing she could pinpoint to rage was the burning sense of self-preservation she'd felt whilst writhing in the jaws of Tytos ; AKA her Exiler captor. It bothered her that she hadn't a clue how to defend herself. The girl had always relied heavily upon her heightened awareness - one that came with being quite alone the majority of her life. Wind Haven had caused her to slip up. To relax and trust. Declan didn't regret it. No, Wind Haven had been the right choice, and the sense of security attached to it was good. The fem just needed a fresh perspective, one that benefited more than herself.
So, determinedly, Declan decided to learn about fighting. It was real concerning to think about. Too morally grey for her taste, but she figured a plethora of things were these days. Besides, it was easier to justify after experiencing the horrifying attitude the Exiles carried.
The apprentice wasn't sure how to start. She held her good paw daintily in front of her frame as she analyzed her claws. They looked... delicate. Porcelain examples of her ineptitude. Declan sighed heavily, glancing around. "How?"
Her rhetorical question rang through the field louder than she'd intended. The fem shook her head demurely, frustration clear in her bright brown gaze.