Hoshor Plains Fire, Hell Fire, This Fire Burning In My Skin

As it had been a while since Kigipigak had fought anything for fun, the invitation aroused something left long dormant within him. Before the cougar fight he had been willing to fight any man who approached him, and every so often a woman if they had the courage to confront him with such a challenge - now, while his heart immediately leapt at the chance, the rest of him felt a deep, steeping dread. He stowed his true feeling as best he could (which was difficult, Kigipigak was often an open book); and with a wave of his tail, shared a grin with the woman which was a touch more sardonic than usual.

I have not fought in a spar in some time, he admitted to her. If you think I will go down easily, you will be mistaken! His voice boomed, accepting the challenge that she issued even with his own misgivings. He backed off a few steps and carefully began to prowl with his body a little bit lower, waiting for her to reach a state of readiness for their spar to begin.

You say you have fought bears! I have not. Are they anything like the giants in the north? The only bears I know of are white, like us, and bigger too - four or five times over! Kigipigak spoke brashly, his voice carrying with a boisterous, boyish charm. It took effort for him to stay focused and not let this new-found apprehension take hold of him. He had to remind himself: he was a warrior! A man of Tartok!