Frostfire Ridge and all was black and still

successful hit 

His white gaze scanned his surroundings warily, keeping a keen eye out for any wolves nearby. Pausing for a moment, Spartacus lifted a hind leg and sprayed his scent on the ground, remarking the borderline once more. It felt good to be back where he belonged once more, in the North, and even if being in this pack didn't work out (he would make sure it would), he was sure there would probably be several more packs here in the North. He could try his luck there if it came down to that, but hopefully it wouldn't happen.

A bark caught the Gladiator's attention and Spartacus lifted his inky black crown, eyes as white and as pure as snow catching the form of another ebony figure, but as she came closer, he noticed that not all of her was black, her toes were a strange white color. But that didn't matter in the Ridge, appearance did not matter, their skills did.

Spartacus's posture shifted into one of deference as she arrived but then immediately changed into a sparring position when she began circling him and uttered a single command. Velvety black ears flattened against his skull and his snout dipped to protect his vulnerable throat, habits never changed, even if it was just a friendly spar. Without hesitating, for your enemy wouldn't wait in a real fight, the Gladiator charged forward, aiming to pull her forelimb away from her, to unbalance her.