Torrent had woken into a restlessness this day that would not be assuaged by the constant rounds of guarding livestock or patrolling the boundaries. It was familiar sort of restlessness, like the building of steam in a boiler before a catastrophic explosion, and for her brothers' sake she would do well to heed the warning and remove herself from Fireside's lands until it was soothed. Sometimes the heat of battle soothed, sometimes it tilted her over the edge. Undoubtedly Tyr would prefer that she not roll the dice with his pack's wolves, so she crossed the border to the battlefield looking for blood. Pidge clung to her shoulders wreathed in disgruntled mutters, Asriel beside her as silent as she and far more ghost-like in his feline grace.

Piece stalked over the land of the battlefield, albeit not knowing its purpose. His mind had been snagging on the subject for a bit, though, like a robe catching on a thorn to force its owner to become aware of the roses. He enjoyed it a good bit, why shouldn't it? He'd sparred with his brother a million times in their youth. He doubted he was the best brawler in the world, but he for sure wasn't bad. His lack of morals, plus a naturally muscular build, helped his adequate skill rise to bigger and better heights. There was not a worry in his mind to hold him back when he struck, like he knew happened with some wolves. What a cruel disease, a conscience was. He felt the prickle of insecurity that always hit him when he was away from his brother. The obsession over wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he was alone, when Liev could return to him. It filled his mind with storm clouds and knives to dance on. Sometimes it seemed like he had been molded by Glitch, and couldn't hold his own shape alone. He wondered, with a sickening turn, if the darker-furred man felt the same way. Or worse, if he didn't, and this dependence was Liev's own to bear. His weakness. When he saw a woman standing alone, the Volg-Volkolv brother was grateful for a respite from his worries. "Hello." It was a short greeting. Piece despised small talk. "What is this place?" Once that was done, he took a moment to notice her appearance. She was tall, far taller than he. That in itself was strange, but the beasts near her took his breath away with their oddness. Not them in particular, but the way the two stayed near the woman. Like they belonged to her.

Torrent shifted to watch the male approach, heat flickering through her gaze like a bonfire set into a glacier cavern. Her tongue flicked out to touch her lip, the only expression of her eagerness other than the tension in her frame. As he spoke, her eyes narrowed and her expression slipped into a clear disdain, her lip curling up from one long fang. She had come here for the heat and blood of a fight, not teaching some fool what land he had wandered into. "It is the battlefield as anyone could have told you before you set paw here to waste my time," she spat out in clipped tones, hackles rising in response to her irritation. She shifted her weight without thinking, readying herself to spring. "If you aren't here for a fight what good are you to me?"

The obvious disdain in the woman's expression irritated Piece. He was just asking a question. She ought not to be so insolent. The pink-eyed wolf smiled darkly. He'd been itching for a fight, and here was a perfect victim. There was no fear in his mind. Why should there be? He probably wouldn't have lived to today if he hadn't always been certain of victory. Even when he lost, he passed over that and continued with the assumption that he was unbeatable. Not then, but definitely, certainly, positively now. Narcissism? Maybe, but it wasn't like he cared. It worked well enough for him. "If you aren't here for a fight what good are you to me?" "Shush, sweetheart." He was almost sure that that would infuriate her. His tone was light and candy-sweet, taunting. It was rare that he was the one with fewer anger issues in a pairing. He stiffened, eyes narrowing, ears flattening, and muzzle wrinkling. His head lowered and jaws open to protect his throat, and his tail high for the appearance of dominance, he lunged directly forward, sprinting. His jaws would aim for her upper right leg, around her extensor carpi radialis. The damage would be minimal, a teasing blow just to show her that he could, although he certainly would draw blood. If he struck without disruption to his plan, he would dodge to the side, turning to still face his opponent, but, if she stood still, moving about two feet away. Liev Volg-Volkolv vs Torrent for dominance Round 1/x Age: Over 1 year Size: Large Build: Medium Skills: Beginner Fighter & Beginner Hunter Specialty: N/A