Heath had too many problems. Problems that he wanted to ignore, issues that he thrived on when in situations such as this, and even troubles that he didn’t have the power to recognize. He thought of everything he had been through. The battle against loneliness, and fight between his father and brother both came to mind. The death of his mother was something that was too strong for such a scuffle, and his thoughts only hinted around the fringes of the vision. It boiled in his chest, and as he felt the contact of their bodies, and the claws the touched the side of his face, though not razor sharp, raked at the skin beneath his fur. The pain shot through his cheek, and the male absorbed it and basked in it. Heath took the hit, not thinking much about defense as he did offense, at least not for this fight.
His back legs worked quickly, moving sideways and holding his upper body skyward and propelling himself at the male once again. This time the rogue aimed for the male’s shoulder. It wasn’t necessary for him to bloody the other’s face; he would be the one to hold those scrapes and weeping wounds. Left paw went again to the face, quickly but with less pressure then his right. Black gloved paw ran its ink dipped talons into the males side, and as gold eyes watched the deadly teeth the other claimed his let the paw grapple at the shoulder blade. Heath wanted flesh, an anchor that locked them together and drain the blood from the pups body. Well, maybe just a little.