Haunted Wood Cicada night

germanicus side-stepped, and sent his muzzle downward in a strike toward the other's lowered head.

crowfeather had flashed through the glow of moon into smooth darkness and back again. his lithe figure was roguish beneath nightfall, and the eagle wondered if the boy knew it. 

"strike me higher," he ordered in the next, baritone turned to gravel and the hue of his eyes lost to the dazzle of starshine. "not so low if your opponent is larger. he will grab you, thrust your face down into the dirt. you may lose your jaw if you are not careful."

germanicus clung to the shreds of instruction.