White River Canyon

With their eyes closed, Abyss’ other senses became hyperaware of the world around them- the cool breeze against their skin, the rustling of leaves, the crunching of twigs, and the distant call of the pack’s ravens. Even the valley’s smell of pine and sea salt was amplified.

But Abyss kept their sense of smell trained on Xairo, as they honed in on his location. For now, it seemed like he was still standing before them, trying to conjure up his tactic. But Father gave them little time to prepare- he was commanding they begin, and seconds later, the world around Abyss erupted into chaos. The other pups were launching their assaults, making it difficult to stay focused on Xairo. A tsk slipped past their clenched jaw, followed by a sharp inhale as they prepared themselves for what would come.

Abyss wasn’t prepared enough- Xairo’s shoulder clashed with theirs, earning a sharp yelp from the dual-colored pup. Stumbling several feet, Abyss regained their footing and widened their stance, lowering their head and emitting a low, challenging growl. Their eyes were still closed- a sign of their determination, as they wished to continue the spar, despite their disadvantage.

In the background, Father was barking commands, wanting them to stay on their toes. To use all their senses. With a snort, Abyss beckoned Xairo forward again.

This time, they would be better prepared.


"Abyssinica"