Larksong Grotto Wassup playa?

It was already too late when Reek realized he had left himself open to Skeet's final attack. Had this been a real fight and not some light-hearted, playtime spar, it would have been enough to be a killing blow. Skeet's jaws gripped tightly around Reek's neck, and with the force of the obvious winner's weight, Reek's wire thin frame was swept from his stance: his legs buckled and bent, and soon, he found himself on the ground. Pinned.

"Goddamn," he said, panting beneath the victor. "You're good." Wether it was Skeet's technique or his observations skills that one the fight, one thing was certain, he was a force to be reckoned with -- and with that, he was a valuable asset to the pack.

Reek writhed and wriggled until he was finally free from Skeet's hold. "I'm a bit rusty," said Reek, rolling his shoulders forward as he offered an excuse for his poor performance. "We should do this again sometime, but until then, I should probably get going." After all, there were borders to tend to and caches to fill. The life of the alpha male was always busy, but it was nice to get a little testosterone fueled reprive from it all.

"See you 'round Skeet," said Reek, turning away to resume his duties around the grotto.