300 - LEONIDAS was a kid

When the boy was born, like all Spartans, he was inspected. If he'd been small or puny or sickly or misshapen, he would have been discarded. In the time he could stand, he was baptized in the fire of combat. Taught never to retreat, never to surrender. Taught that death on the battlefield in service to Sparta was the greatest glory he could achieve in his life. At age seven, as is customary in Sparta, the boy was taken from his mother and plunged into a world of violence. Manufactured by 300 years of Spartan warrior society to create the finest soldiers the world has ever known. The Agogi, as it's called, forces the boy to fight. Starves them, forces them to steal, and if necessary, to kill. By rod and lash, the boy was punished. Taught to show no pain, no mercy. Constantly tested, tossed into the wild, left to pit his wits and will against nature's fury. It was his initiation, his time in the wild, that he would return to his people as Spartan, but not at all. The wolf begins to circle the boy. Claws of black steel, fur as dark night, eyes glowing red. Jewels from the pit of hell itself. The giant wolf sniffing, savoring the scent of the meal to come. It's not fear that grips him, only a heightened sense of things. Cold air in his lungs, windswept pines moving against the coming night. His hands are steady, his form perfect.