White River Canyon

The boy smirked, bravado undiminished by the sting in his forelimb where Zagan’s claws sunk into his skin. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate his brother’s resolve, taking the bite square to his shoulder without attempting to dodge. He is aware of his father speaking, barking out pointers, commanding them to use all their senses prior to the fight—that an enemy would not announce themselves, that they would not have the luxury of knowing an attack was coming.

He tightened his hold, planting his hind legs firmly as Zagan shoved forward, their strength colliding, a contest of weight and grit. Zagan’s snapping jaws came dangerously close, breath hot against his muzzle, but Ludovic didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned into the clash, letting his own growl rumble low from his throat, his eyes glinting with challenge. He released his brother’s shoulder by then, snapping at Zagan’s face in return. His jaws darted, aiming to graze Zagan’s neck or face, the meaning clear: if Zagan wanted to play rough, Ludovic would match him blow for blow. How’s this for ready at all times?


"Ludovic Praetor-Inferos"