Bearclaw Valley «The Thorns of Roses»

As contrary as to what many believe, there are different kinds of silence. There's awkward silence, paranoid silence, and comfortable silence. Cry specialized in recognizing the different silences, and adapting to them appropriately. This was a silence he had not interacted with in a while, but it was him who reacted to it the way it was meant to be. Comfortably.
 
A separation was underway between the two wolves, and as swift as they unfurled themselves from one another, Cry studied everything about the situation as his play partner prepared another blow. They were equal in body height, though Raziel had more muscle bulge than he, while color and composition were obviously different. One thing that mattered between the differences of both men, however, were scars. Scars told stories that eyes could deceive you on. Your scars were mistakes that you had made. And right now, the scar that tempted Cry the most, was the nick on his Alphas ear. 

However,  there was a rush he had to deal with. Most spars he had dealt with had come from cowards, those who struck, and retreated, camping their defense while looking for another advantage. Raz however, was no coward. The alpha was aggressive, and wise. A deadly combo. While Cry was keeping his mind's eye on the next spot he was to deal a bite to, the sterling sent his body a warning to his shoulder. The shadow swiftly leapt to evade the jaws of the silver, yet he was not finished. Raziel had not camped, the silent ebony could see he was not the type, yet he was unprepared for another assault immediately after the feign, and for it to be launched in he exact degree in which he landed from the evasion. 

The tackle his alpha had launched was indeed successful, though Cry had not lost footing in the impact. Instead, he kept low to the ground, while trying to shove the sterling from his own four legged security, from below.