Moonspear cymylau

He is getting tired; Llewellyn doesn't need to look hard to know that. The boy is on the verge of collapsing before him, struggling for air. "Breathe, lad," he commands, sucking in a deep inhale himself. "From your belly, not your throat. Keep yourself steady. You're going to lose the battle before it begins, if you panic."

The prince stops moving so much, slowing down, standing still after a few beats. "Attack me," Llewellyn rumbles, eyes flashing. "The only way to get me down is to knock me off my feet. Find a way to unbalance me and I will be at your mercy. But you have to be calm--you have to be precise." He plants his paws, but only slightly; this is more of a lesson for Revui than a proving ground for him, as a teacher. He is more than willing to take the loss.