Moonspear fear is the hand that pulls your strings

He closed the gap between them both with ease; this stranger might've known the mountain but it was Revui's playground, and he knew each crevice, each subtle shift in topography, exposed root, struggling sapling — he would use that to his advantage. And when he finally reached the stranger he was surprised to see a welcoming posture, and for a split-second he wondered if he had been found out after all. He did not realize that the stranger might've been waiting for someone else, expecting Hydra out of all the wolves of the mountain. Revui should've clued in that this wasn't the best way to greet a newcomer to Moonspear but so far it was his style; if someone couldn't handle the aggression of the leviathan, they had no place upon his mountain.

Revui's body careened in to the stranger's own, and there was enough momentum behind the heavy-set boy that it sent them both sprawling through the trees. Whatever enjoyment Revui might've garnered out of it was gone in a heartbeat. He was being too aggressive. The game had ended as soon as he'd made contact, and this was evidenced by the way the stranger fought to get to his feet again. The snarl woke in Revui something primal that he had no way of understanding. The boy was always one of the more feral creatures of the mountain but he hadn't devolved so much as grown in to himself over time; this stranger's anger (if that's what it was), his posture, his menace — it took Revui to a state of deep and almost prehistoric levels of ferality.

He was just getting to his own feet when he heard that snarling sound, and when he turned to face the stranger he saw the way he carried himself, puffed up and defensive; the leviathan lurched away from him but lowered his own head, pinned his ears, flashed a crocodile grin — all of which to say, show me what you got! At which point the newcomer bolted straight at him. Revui reacted with instinct over any logic, ducking to one side and snapping his teeth near whatever portion of the wolf he was near. He didn't stop snapping either, hoping to drive them back as he stalked in a crescent through the trees, trying to get the other wolf to spin on the spot and lose his footing.

It was a spar, but there was no way to tell if it was meant to be a stupid game or something much more serious, and potentially dangerous.