Ossanlin nods. <So you engaged the enemy. You were ambushed not once but twice. You nearly lost a limb, an injury that would put anything on the ground. It seems you may have panicked, but that's quite understandable given the circumstances. The way I see it, you're embarassed because you think Efaen will think less of you now. Your choices in battle were understandable, there is a difference between bravery and foolhardiness. You did have options...shredders and morphing among them, but what you are lacking here is experience. Once you have some battles under your belt, your reactions will become better, and your analyses will improve. The heat of battle is quite different from training simulations. Nothing is really under control in a battle. No one's standing in a cubicle controlling things, and you're not guaranteed safety. Once you get used to the battle situation, these things will come.>
Ossanlin turns to walk back forward through the ship, but keeps his stalk-eyes on Claxter. <And you should not care so much about what one female thinks. After all, she's not your mate.> 'Yet' he adds silently to himself. <And for being so concerned for her safety, I'm surprised that you're moping back here. You should speak with her to make sure she's alright, she was almost just forced back into Yeerk slavery. The life of an honorable military andalite is to give greatly of oneself and expect nothing in return. There's no time for you to rest now, we have a crisis to manage and you have to help.>