Dragoncrest Cliffs around here, it's just another saturday night.

Artaax, in all of his posturing, had not expected to be attacked. He had thought that his dominant display would be enough to drive the male back and send him packing. It had been naive, but there was nothing for it now.

Not being mentally prepared, however, did not prevent him from reacting quickly. Eske's lessons were deeply ingrained into his mind, and so his movements were almost pure instinct. He tucked his muzzle down to protect his wolf as the dark wolf leaped, simultaneously twisting so that the snapping fangs would meet his shoulder instead of any more vulnerable part of him.