Round 2.

Xairo paused in his pacing, the stranger's words seeping into his mind despite his efforts to block them out. He glanced at the older wolf, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he quickly smothered it with a scowl. "I don't need your philosophy lesson," Xairo growled, his tail lashing. But even as the words left his mouth, he felt a twinge of doubt. What if this brute was right? What if winning another fight wouldn't magically fix the turmoil inside him? He shook his head stubbornly, refusing to entertain such thoughts. "You don't understand. I’m Xairo Saxe, and if I am going to be Sultan, then I have to do this. I have to show them all that I'm not weak, that I'm not a failure."

Xairo stalked away from Oath, his claws digging into the rocky ground with each agitated step. The older wolf's words echoed in his mind, refusing to be silenced. Handle the fire inside? What did this stranger know about the inferno raging within him, the constant need to prove himself, to show everyone that he was worthy of his title and destiny? He came to an abrupt halt, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration. Xairo closed his eyes, trying to center himself, to regain some semblance of control. But the doubts continued to swirl in his mind, taunting him with his own inadequacies. How could he ever hope to be Sultan if he couldn't even win a simple fight?

A growl rumbled in his throat as he turned to face Oath once more, his green eyes blazing with a wild intensity. "You think talking will make me stronger?" he challenged, his voice raw with emotion. "Prove it then. Fight me, right here and now. Show me how your 'wisdom' holds up.” He said while dropping into a combative crouch, his muscles coiled and ready to spring.

"Xairo Saxe"