Seaside Moors Getting lost on purpose

The slow pace of the spar was helpful.
It was like how Tundra taught him, and this development would make him into a more pragmatic rather than frantic fighter.

His nip seemed to be well placed enough to earn him that small amount of praise.
He had no idea what the - uh, axellah? - was. He'd ask Tundra.
He nodded in confidence. These would be where he had to attack first then. Maybe.
The woman went straight for his throat, but she knew he was inexperienced.

His tail waved softly. But didn't realised that his eye would've been a good target.
"Ah, ok." 
It seemed to make sense now. And the eyes would be harmful anyway. A disability was a weakness he could attack again.