Breaking Down Walls

Basilisk needed something to distract himself from the walls closing in around him. Artorias’ judgement, the politics breaking into groups around them. Winter, his first raid as Warlord. His freedoms and choices seemed to lesson every time he turned around. iggy. he lunged forward, as fast as a striking snake. He grabbed Mortis’ wing at the base and began to throw the smaller wolf to the ground. Harder than he had intended to. Mortis started to fall, and his wings snapped out around him, smacking Basilisk in the face. He felt blood flick from his nose as he grappled the older wolf. 


And then a little gold appeared in the corner of his vision. He stumbled, and Mortis gained the upper hand. He felt the older wolf push against him, threatening to overthrow his balance. He dug his paws into the stony ground, his muscles groaning as he felt the full force of Mortis against him. One moment, another. Both were breathing hard when Basilisk lifted one paw off the ground. Leaning All his weight forward with three legs as he hooked his paw behind Mortis, touching his bone spur to the underside of the others flesh. 


“I yield” Mortis said with a grin, shaking his head. “Good match, Basilisk: he congratulated him, slapping the Warlord on the shoulder with a wing. But Bas had attention only for the gold wolf, he tossed his head forward, silently commanding her to follow. He led her down the natural ramp outside the training cave. “What do you have in mind?” He asked her, his voice professional. Cool. His Wyrm followed close to his heels.