Oh my soul

It had been... years, since he had been here for any purpose but to bear witness to yet another blow to his family. Death matches, pack challenges, wars, it seemed he was always on the peripherals of battle, but only once had he come here for himself. That was when he was a yearling, before everything had changed for him. He had fought and won against Ashmedai (what had ever happened to Ash? He was saddened to say that there had been no trace at all of the other boy when he had settled into Ash's family's old lands) and had known the rush of battle, before he had seen how ugly and meaningless it all was. That was years ago. Now he led a different life, a quieter life, but one that he had to be willing to be a guardian, to fight if necessary despite how much he abhorred it. And he had come to realize that he was woefully out of practice.

His chosen home was right near the battlefield, something that made him wonder if that hadn't subconsciously been a factor in his choice. If there was something in him that was broken, that craved the calls he heard and the battles he witnessed. Some part that revelled in the heart-pain of watching his loved ones enter battle. That needed it. It was a fear he kept buried out of a fear that talking about it, acknowledging it even to himself, would make it somehow true. But it was there, that worry, as he stopped on the field and raised his muzzle to invite a challenge. He had gone years without sparring another wolf. Was this worth the risk?