There Is No Leaving

Xairo snarled in frustration as Dracun slipped from his grasp, the pain in his side flaring anew. He felt his brother's teeth graze his arm, and instinctively jerked away, his own jaws snapping at empty air. The near miss only fueled his anger, and he whirled to face Dracun again, his green eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and wounded pride. "Lucky dodge," he spat, circling his brother warily. His injuries screamed for rest, but Xairo pushed the pain aside, focusing instead on the burning need to prove himself. He couldn't lose, not here, not now.

With a roar that echoed off the valley walls, Xairo charged again, this time feinting to the left before abruptly changing direction. He aimed a vicious swipe at Dracun's flank, his claws extended and seeking purchase in his brother's flesh. But even as he attacked, Xairo could feel his movements growing sluggish, his reactions dulled by exhaustion and pain.

"Xairo Saxe"