Seaside Moors Getting lost on purpose

The boy was frustrated, yes.
But he was inexperienced and he knew it. He'd gotten lucky on the occasions he'd fought only aided by the skills he'd been taught.
He drew himself further from the man, listening to his wise words.

"Fighting with one eye is wicked," he grinned, bringing himself back into the man's view. Rowan made the note that those with disabilities likely had learned how to live with it.
But if it's new, he'd have more of a chance.

He needed to think, use the noggin on his shoulders, and develop his teachings.
Fighting head-on, he'd usually try pushing his opponent back until they made a mistake, then took advantage of it.
That woman had attacked head-on. She went for his neck, like hella fast.
​
Rowan swayed on his feet a little, looking, then charged for the man, throwing up his paws into his face, and then aimed to dive down - if the man hadn't already batted him to the ground - and nip at his neck.