10-15-2012, 04:48 PM
Deflect, strike and repeat. Muscles, staff and body moved as one, the scent of blood triggering an almost instinctual response. The grizzled male watched his attacker move back, the glittering blade, smeared now in his blood, falling from a spasming hand. His opponent was weaponless, his tactician’s mind knew that it was now time to press his advantage. With a smooth spin of the staff, Einarr moved forward, low and quick, smashing the staff down on the knife which jumped into the air, he caught it and tossed it out of his opponent’s reach. He spun the staff again, bringing it in an arc to finish this encounter.
”You were gonna take my doe.”
The words made it through quickly and Einarr stopped the staff inches from his attacker. The quivering bark stayed there for a moment as the blood roared through his ears and his heart returned to its normal rhythm. Looking at the upraised hand Einarr realised how young this wolf, he had been about to kill a hot headed yearling. He lowered the staff and planted the butt of it in the ground, holding the haft, just in case.
”Your doe?”
His tone was devoid of all anger or any emotion for that matter, as though being attacked and delivering swift retribution was a routine occurrence.
”You are in neutral territory, there is no “my” here. I have been exploring these lands. I saw the doe approach so I chose to hunt it, I did not see you. Had you allowed me to kill the creature and then told me, we would both have a meal now, instead, I have a sore shoulder and you nearly lost your life.”
Einarr was more concerned than he liked to admit that he had not sensed the other wolf, this youngling clearly had great potential as a hunter, impulsive, but youth often was. The grizzled male mentally chided himself, he was no old enough yet for these thoughts.
”Who are you? And who taught you how to hold a staff?”
”You were gonna take my doe.”
The words made it through quickly and Einarr stopped the staff inches from his attacker. The quivering bark stayed there for a moment as the blood roared through his ears and his heart returned to its normal rhythm. Looking at the upraised hand Einarr realised how young this wolf, he had been about to kill a hot headed yearling. He lowered the staff and planted the butt of it in the ground, holding the haft, just in case.
”Your doe?”
His tone was devoid of all anger or any emotion for that matter, as though being attacked and delivering swift retribution was a routine occurrence.
”You are in neutral territory, there is no “my” here. I have been exploring these lands. I saw the doe approach so I chose to hunt it, I did not see you. Had you allowed me to kill the creature and then told me, we would both have a meal now, instead, I have a sore shoulder and you nearly lost your life.”
Einarr was more concerned than he liked to admit that he had not sensed the other wolf, this youngling clearly had great potential as a hunter, impulsive, but youth often was. The grizzled male mentally chided himself, he was no old enough yet for these thoughts.
”Who are you? And who taught you how to hold a staff?”