Digging in

Dimosthenes realized one lazy afternoon that it had been a while since he'd practiced his fighting. He attributed it to a lack of opponents then, although he knew, of course, of course, that he should have been practicing on his own. It was more exciting to spar when there was someone else, someone with motion and excitement to mix with his and maybe help him tune out his own brain for a little bit. Although that was harder to do than he liked. The next day, he was walking up to the battlefield as dark clouds settled over the sky.

The area itself was a pretty plain of grass and the occasional rock. There were bloodstains every once in a while, stains on stones and flecks on green blades of grass. It was very obviously a place where many fights had been fought and likely would be fought again in the future. A good place to look for an opponent, and Dime found one quickly: a brown male, much larger and heavier than himself. But Dimosthenes was never one to doubt himself, and he did not now.

"Hello, mister!" he called out, getting himself ready for the fight a couple yards from the stranger. It was drizzling lightly, and a big drop of rain landed right on his nose, which he swiped away with his tongue. A fight in the rain would be interesting, wouldn't it? He'd have to clean his pelt after, which would be irritating, but he didn't think about that.