Swiftcurrent Creek but anything is preferable to the pain

Merrick was far more clever than his son, whose lack of experience shone through now. His father was a wicked blade whetted by the darkness that took root in his heart where feeling withered, urging him to wield his pain as a weapon unto others. Aventus had nothing similar to draw upon and spent far too much time sneaking about, and far too little honing his body. A chipped ax, clumsily fashioned by an apprentice whose wandering eye did not yet appreciate the beauty of the forge.

Merrick's pirouette was as unexpected as the previous swing, causing Aventus to growl out his frustration when he was wrenched for the second time into a compromising and painful position. This time, the boy set his hind paws wide and attempted to wrench backward on the flesh he held, a little too forcefully for a regular spar, betraying his temper as he sought to force Merrick back under his control.