I yearn for action

As Plague got into more fights he felt himself drawn to them. From six months old on the boy found himself training his body to pass time and perhaps mask some sort of underlying issues. The pain of sore muscles made him feel as if he was being productive. But most of all, they made him feel. He found fighting achieved similar goals. Since he turned one he had more opportunity to venture forth from the lands of Ashen. He heard stories of the battlefield from the warriors and even close family members. A place of little law and lots of bloodshed. It was a place that brought shivers down his spine as a pup but now brought tingles of excitement to his paws as a yearling.

The Prince found himself lurking the battlefield in hopes of hearing a call for a spar. After a short while he felt as though he may have to just howl for a fight himself. But, just before giving up hope Plague saw a figure in the distance. Large paws carried the phantom closer to the stranger with mild caution. Plague noticed there weren't any notes of a pack in the scent, or at least any of the packs he knew of. It was fairly easy to say it was a loner. He was aware of the dangers that came with being a loner in the battlefield. Either the stranger wanted to be claimed or was looking for a fight. Plague would determine which it was.

As more distance closed he looked over the stranger's odd coloration and markings. Blue on blue and even blue-er eyes. Plague thought the male looked unique and was rather easy on the eyes. But, he wasn't here to think of anything before testing his one on one sparring skills. After stopping at a good ten tail lengths away Plague called to the stranger, "Are you here to spar?"

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