Big Salmon Lake Be my Yoko Ono

He felt the click of Āzon's jaws snapping shut as he smacked the crown of his head upward against his lower jaw. He forced the male back a bit, allowing Bronco to lift his head and step free of his grasp. Concern flitted across his features as he caught sight of a trail of spittle laced with blood drip from Āzon's mouth, likely from either his lip or tongue, and he felt a pang of remorse for having caused his sparring partner to get hurt.

The momentary hesitation on Bronco's behalf left him vulnerable to the male's next move, which was to headbutt him square in the ribs- forcing him to exhale sharply, emitting a noise of surprise that was also part guffaw. He should've seen that coming, but he was a sentimental creature, and was fortunate in the end that this was a spar, not an actual fight. It might've cost him much more than a title if he'd expressed sympathy for an enemy. Even with his feet squared, the softness of his momentary sympathy made his body flex under the impact and stumble sideways, skidding and scrambling to keep himself on his feet. It'd be impossible for him to launch a counter-attack to a blow like this- so he did his best to scramble away in a bid to win himself enough space so that he could take a moment and reset his posture. 

He couldn't afford to lose his concentration again, or falter in his judgement, not with someone who clearly had both speed and experience on their side. With Āzon in an attacking position, Bronco had to find some way to gain a bit of ground after having been thrown off balance. Given he was already in motion, Bronco scampered around toward Āzon's hind quarters, in a novel move he'd not practiced often before, and attempted to make a grab at the male's flank- teeth sheathed by his lips of course, to prevent himself from puncturing the sensitive flesh there- and pull his hind end toward the ground. Perhaps if he could pull one leg out from underneath Āzon, he'd be able to launch a finishing move that might bring the spar to an end.