fronthand backhand

It had been a long time since he’d come here. Aging as he was, a lot of the time after a walk as long as this, he was more or less ready for a nap. And so, he’d travelled out here a bit early. Once he’d found a reasonably well guarded, hidden spot, he’d tucked himself in and taken that nap, guarded by the two mountain lions that had been at his side since his daughter was a pup.

So, he was fresh and ready when he heard a howl for a sparring partner. The voice held that tinge of youth to it and, as he drew close enough to see the girl, he noted that she was indeed young, a yearling at most. But she held a stalwart determination to her that the crimson coated male could see from a mile off… figuratively speaking.

His eyes dropped to the steel claws, speculatively and with some interest before he smiled and stepped forward with a dip of his muzzle.

“I’d take this spar if you’re not waiting for someone younger.” There was a joke in the words, a good-natured jest at his own old age.