Blackfeather Woods words are wind, my friend

Pain coursed through his shoulder, pain gave a fierceness to his actions as he clamped down firmly around the muzzle of his brother, then with vigor snapped backward his neck, hoping to rip his brother from his grip as a child may rip off a bandaid. The child that dwelt in shadows had been wise in the occasionally seeking of mentors that granted him knowledge in battle, as well as his own swift intellect, which led to him a boon now. This fight was no mere battle for dominance between siblings, or play, but something much deeper than that, he felt. He had never fought to play.