Fight me, FIGHT ME!

Restlessness had continued to take control of Beauregard’s paws during the wanderings of the North. The “normal” days of flurries and nights of cold had started to become a little too routine and Beauregard’s paws itched for something to stir up a little something once more. Why not work on his skills, he had thought? Wren was going to be making a pack after all and if he was going to be part of it the youth wanted to be strong enough to be of use to her. He had barely worked on his skills since arriving here in Boreas. It was time to change that and see what he could do to sharpen them.

…and so Beau found himself wandering back to the battlefield where he had met the alpha to be. His walk was sure, ears perking the moment he heard the call of a stranger. Eyes lit up and the yearling took off at a run with Trill trailing not far behind him via the air.

It was the colors of the stranger that caught Beauregard off guard first. Shades of purple made up his coat and thick fur, almost like the mane of a lion, surrounded the other’s neck. Beau couldn’t help but stare; he’d never seen a wolf with such coloration before.

Trill’s chirp broke him from his thoughts and Beau dipped his head with a sheepish grin. “You called for a spar?” The male’s words were soft, gentle. Trill’s focus, however, was on the man before them, far more skeptical than her wolf companion.