Dragoncrest Cliffs You had your maps drawn

Released, the yearling stood tall before shaking out his coat. He was disappointed by his loss but knew that it wasn’t too terrible of a defeat; he wasn’t quite himself yet, having been traveling as a loner and living off of small prey and scraps for a decent while. Besides, every spar was a learning experience, whether he won or lost. Still, the other boy’s behavior following his win made Hvit’s eyes narrow briefly, a low warning growl rising from deep within his throat—it was not based on aggression, solely being a way for him to show how unappreciative he was of the bragging. Arrogance was something that he’d never developed, unable to take to the mindset that fueled it. It just seemed stupid and was, in his eyes, the downfall of many great warriors; the second someone got cocky, their defenses fell and a string of losses soon followed.

When he fell silent and approached, the Viking watched him, gaze having returned to its usual, neutral state. As if to rectify his actions, he noted the closeness of the spar, at which Hvitserk nodded. Later on down the road, perhaps he would even prompt Arrille into another spar.