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He would not allow her to provoke him. Had he not learned how to control his mind through his practice with the 'toy,' he would have been incensed by her words.

Her tone shifted then, and he could not help but be suspicious of her motives. Still, what could she do? If she launched an attack, he was prepared for that, and she knew that, too. "It's a work in progress," he admitted, acknowledging that he did not yet see himself as a master. "I'm very good, but there's still more to learn. There's always more..." his voice trailed off. It would take him more than a lifetime to truly master this art at best. He found himself returning to the idea of the generations succeeding him. He could pass down more than a legend: he could pass on the evidence as well... through an apprentice. Just as his master taught him, he could teach another. How hard could it be?

His legend would live on, supported by his legacy.

His thoughts returned to the weasel. "It's interesting that we're teaching each other about our lives and somehow have similar wants... even though we couldn't be more different." To think he had shared qualities with a weasel... he detested the thought.

"No, it's not the 'toy' that makes me strong; it teaches me how to be strong,"his lips parted into a slight smile, his expression somewhere between mischievous and malicious, "and I've become a very accomplished killer because of it."

"Hm," he mused after she explained her intentions entirely. His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head at the unfamiliar word. "Charms? What the hell are those?" Not only was the word a novel one, but its ability was as well. An object that could control skinwakers seemed a thing of fantasy. He and his herd, far to the east, had not heard of such things -- he was proof of that fact.

He smiled, allowing his tails to sway behind him to reveal his excitement. "There's always next time, weasel."

His eyes narrowed as she spoke, a smile tugging at the ends of his lips. What interesting knowledge. "I'm from the far east. There are plenty of walkers, but none of them have a 'charm.'" So, a cure for skinwalker blood madness existed. He imagined Hojo turning in his grave. All those years training Ashura in hopes of taming the skinwalker through a disciplined life guided by the sword, only to die at the edge of his apprentice's blade. It was unbelievable that all the old swordsman had to do was acquire a simple charm from an Angeni to have the apprentice he wanted. Ashura could not help but laugh. "My master and my herd didn't know about these things, either, or I'd probably be a different fox."

He threw his head back and laughed again as she joined him on the ground. He found himself almost glad that he did not kill this weasel; apparently, she carried a wealth of information in that crafty head.

"Thanks for the waning," he began, rising to his paws and prowling towards her. "I'll manage; they have to beat me before they charm me." He sat again, now close to her. Either of them could strike the other, and he waited to see what she would do.

"Lucky me, I guess." He couldn't imagine why any of their kind would want to be charm. He noticed her shudder, as she had done before once they started down this line of conversation. "What's the matter?"

Kiyo's comments on love reminded him of the girl who believed he had the capacity too feel that emotion. A fatal error on her part; she knew better when they first met. He remembered how she shrunk away from the white kitsune, and how she tried in vain to warn his master and his herd of the danger that walked among them. She made the mistake of trusting a skinwalker, tricked into believing that he loved her. In order to maintain his charade, Ashura killed that batwalker - his first solo purewalker kill - and won the heart of that poor mare. In the end, she was a victim of his facade, realizing the kitsune she loved did not feel the same. He felt nothing at all, devoid of compassion and kindness. He was a killer, as they all were.

He nodded as she explained her history with the charms. She killed her mother because she wanted to control her, and the weasel wanted to be free. Although Hojo did not try to charm Ashura, he spent his last years working to control the kitsune in his own way. Ashura killed him to be free. He smiled inwardly. As they continued to learn about one another, the kitsune and the weasel revealed that they were more and more alike.

"You can't protect your army from the Angeni?" Protection was an interesting word. It was not for the sake of the offspring's health or wellbeing, but to ensure they would not suffer the fate of charming.