Moonspear new car smell

Another recruit may not have been comfortable with this. It was not rare for beasts to slink in to new packs and usurp their way to power — but power was not what Lazarus wanted. He wasn't sure what he wanted, or why he played this game with the boy. All he knew was that instinct dictate he react, and so he did. When the boy reinforced his position by lifting his leg again, Lazarus did not move. He did not care that the boy's urine splattered across his outreached limb; the smell made his nose twitch and his lip curl (or perhaps it was the child who brought this out of him). As soon as Floki's tail raised again, Lazarus was taking another step towards him.

It did not matter that Lazarus was new to this place — he knew how this worked. He had danced this dance before, and knew he was stronger in spirit, his will insurmountable. Perhaps the boy had only just received his promotion? Perhaps it was all he knew, and he was too foolish to see that the shift in power was inevitable. Lazarus did not care. 

He stepped towards the boy with an abrupt thrust of his bulk, his body twisting a pale crescent, and he snapped his teeth inches from the boy's face with the intent to shock him back. With one leg up he had a weaker stance and Lazarus would exploit that as best he could. If not for rank, then for the sake of his pride — though he was convinced, maniacally so, that he was more fit than this child.