Moonspear Trying to hold on

Bernard's own weak ears pricked at Charon's request: to spar with the other wolf before him. As long as no serious injuries would result, he didn't mind sparring. What he minded was losing this particular fight. He was a humble canine, and while aware of his abilities, the fear of failure gripped him. Still, he nodded and turned towards the gray wolf he had yet to learn the name of. He was surprised to see him give a genuine smile, one that lacked malice or smugness. It comforted him. I can do this, he rallied internally.

The other wolf readied himself and seemed to be graciously giving him the first move. Accepting the invitation, Bernard took in a deep breath of freezing air before pushing off of the ground, barreling towards him. But he didn't do this head-on, rather he leapt to position himself at the wolf's side. When he neared his opponent, he lifted his forelegs and aimed to use his momentum and hulking size to shove him to the ground, or at the very least off-balance. He would clamp down onto his throat, but not too hard—just enough to persuade submission.