Kintla Flatlands But Death Had Caught You in a Bad Mood

Kipigiak opened his eyes as he felt the last grains of irritation fade from them, in time to see the strain of muscle as the other boy lunged. 

Teeth met his face. He thought himself to be agile enough to escape any assault; the bite met his cheek just shy of the nearest eye and cut him deep, scoring the cheekbone and the curve of his lip.

Kipigiak's spirit was lit by generations-old customs focused on bestial behaviors, instinct, feral notions of blood-for-blood. To others it may appear crude, to him it was commonplace to test the mettle of fellow travelers.

This had started as frustration and transformed in to a game but as soon as blood was cut out of him, that ended. The sound of the stranger's teeth clipping together was lost to the pounding of Kipigiak's head as the blow left him disoriented for a breath.

The wolf veered, struck the dirt with a thrust of a step and fluidly bent his head to protect his neck. Blood dripped from the cut to his upper lip and smeared where it flowed along his jaw, decorating the stones below with flecks of red. A disjointed lunge brought Kigipigak in line to tackle his opponent and wedge them in to the shadows cast by the overhang.