Round 2.

Xairo's ears flattened against his skull as he heard the approaching footsteps. He whirled around, his muscles tensed and ready for another fight. But when he saw it was just an older wolf that did seem to be an immediate threat- his posture relaxed slightly - though wariness still shone in his piercing green eyes.

He couldn’t help but scoff at Oath's concerned words, though, trying to mask his inner turmoil with bravado. "I'm fine," he snapped, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "Just taking a breather before I go back for round two." Xairo paced restlessly, his thick fur bristling with pent-up frustration. He cast furtive glances at Oath, unsure of the older guy’s motives. Part of him longed to unburden himself, to voice the gnawing doubts that plagued him. But vulnerability was weakness, and he couldn't afford to show any cracks in his armor.

"I don't need to talk," he growled, though his words lacked conviction. "I need to win. I need to prove that I'm strong enough."

"Xairo Saxe"