Fuel to the Flame

Xairo fought to quell the bitter resentment churning within him as Aresenn's words washed over the group. His father's voice was a distant rumble, the meaning lost in the tempest of Xairo's own dark thoughts. They will be the attackers, the ones to test Xina, Ludo and Zagan's unity? It felt like a consolation prize, a scrap tossed to those not swift enough to claim a leading role.

Xairo's claws flexed, digging into the sun-baked earth as he imagined lunging at his siblings, catching them off guard with the ferocity of his assault. He would show them all that he was not one to be overlooked, that his strength and cunning were forces to be reckoned with.

His heart pounded as he watched the others leap into action at Aresenn's command. For a brief moment longer, he hesitated, his paws almost rooted to the ground. The envy and frustration still simmered within him, but they were quickly overtaken by a rising tide of determination.

He may not have a designated leadership role, but he would prove himself all the same. With a fierce growl, Xairo sprang forward, his blue coat a blur as he charged across the field. His eyes locked onto Xina's fiery form at the point of the triangle formation. The spearhead. Xairo veered to the side at the last second, trying to throw off her timing as he made a pass at her flank.

"Xairo Saxe"