His stalking did not cease - not as the moon lay claim to the sky, not as the Woods became even darker than the shadows sweeping in between each tree. The Svartell was yet again patrolling, for it was among his duties, and it had become his favourite one. The silence of the blood-stained edges of the territory had become the area he was most familiar with, perhaps even more so than the den he took to resting in during the late afternoon.

His mind drifted to Cassiopeia as he walked - there had been little sign of his sister recently, though he could not quite decide whether this was a good or a bad thing. He had strongly disliked her sudden rise in the ranks, clearly having been favoured by the Dark Master (though for what reason this was he did not understand), yet he had developed an idea in his head wanting to make ammends with the girl. It seemed he might be too late. Shame, really, though the Svartell family had been broken a long time ago, and he was certain that even Sirius may have forgotten about them. What had become of that boy, the first born yet distant sibling? Who knew. Who knew, also, of the parents whereabouts - perhaps they were still in Moonspear. Perhaps not. Perhaps, even, they might be dead.... or gone. That would explain Cass' appearance at the Woods, though still he was unsure.

The thoughts were shaken from his mind as the ice blue eyes continued their search upon the borders and the horizon that lay beyond - for a patrol this was, after all, and dwindling on his family's ridiculous breaking apart was unneccessary.

If he was looking to gain information that might fall from Aries' lips, he would certainly be disappointed. It was often rare to be able to strike a conversation with the boy in the first place, but when it came to information and secrets, he was like a stone cold rock. He was already slightly wary, but by this stranger's words it seemed he was a newcomer. Aries had reason to be wary, he supposed, and was sure to keep a watchful eye on him. Then again, he did that on all strangers, new wolves to the Woods were not excluded from this. 

The youngster simply gave a slight nod, then perked his ashen ears forward to catch the answer to his proposal of a patrol or a spar. A spar. That perhaps was the cause of the slight glint in his icy eyes - he never passed up the opportunity to improve his fighting ability, and it also meant he could see how strong this male was. "A spar it is, then."

He wasted little time, shifting into a fighting stance and fixating his sharp gaze onto the other's figure. Then the Svartell waited for him to be somewhat ready before leaping forward in an attempt to knock him.

The boy seems to enjoy the idea of a spar and Argent moves into position. Although he gathers a bit of age separates them, the boy is large and healthy. He will not underestimate him - of course, he has never actually sparred before. Not that he thinks that will make a difference. (Eventually this latent arrogance will be his undoing.)

Argent is slightly slower than the other and does not move in time to avoid the other's form knocking into him, sending him off balance. He stumbles, just barely managing to keep himself from falling over completely, his normally calm movements undercut by an urgency to close his sides from open attack, feeling adrenaline course through his limbs. With a grunt he seeks to return the favor, launching toward the boy with intent to barrel into him.