The viking stalked the battlefield, light pawsteps near silent as she sought an opponent. She had gone too long without battle, and could not allow her skills to rust. It was imperative that she give a good example for her children, and her pack, and show them the way - to perfect your skills, to serve the pack. Even the alpha did such. Stopping deep within the silent field, she lifted her masked face to the moon and called out coolly for someone to join her in battle. She would draw an opponent to her, rather than take the effort to seek one out.

Karabela tested the ground beneath her paws, her claws raking lightly against soil and grass. Her mind was whirring with possibilities and lofty goals and she couldn't help feel that she was careening headlong into something but whether it was fate or disaster she couldn't be sure. Either way… she was a Seconda Guardia of Abaven and she needed to make sure her battle skills were up to snuff, especially if her ambition got the better of her. Dægmar was renowned as warrior, her daughter, Karabela, ought to carry a similar reputation.

A nearby howl caught her attention and she followed the sound to an older, dark-pelted woman. She was a good deal shorter than Karabela but had an aire of experience around her. Raba dipped her head in greeting. "Hello there, would you take me as an opponent?"

"Speech"