I won’t be calling you dad

Viðarr would be pleased to report that the boy was doing well. He'd done a good job going for the neck, though the fossa was a wily little thing. They often were, from what he could tell. The creature snapped around, taking a moment to sink its teeth into the viking's leg. Though Viðarr flinched, he didn't let go. He didn't move, watching his son as he reacted. Watching as he re-adjusted his course, and reconsidered what he was trying to do. Even a little growl-- fierce, he would be... some day.

Akito went for the predator's armpit next. From where the boy stood, it likely made sense. Viðarr couldn't see quite that far around the little beast. "The throat, again. He is starting to be slow." The words are spoken clumsily around his mouthful of predator. They're a bit clumsy, as Viðarr's often are. The common tongue is still foreign to him, as he is to it. His jaw was starting to feel sore, something Viðarr would blame on the thrashing. That, and he'd probably need Tenshi to kiss clean the fossa bite, at the end of this. Before him, the fight between the boy and the predator wore on.

"Viðarr"