He will not give in to her despite the exhaustion within his limbs. His eyes are resolute as he stares her down, waiting for her move, calculating if the tremor of fatigue would carry him through another dodge, another attack. Though he has been careful, she has sustained minor wounds, wounds that would heal easily and quickly. He wants to tell himself it is not because of the way his heart stutters at each determined glance of her mahogany optics, but because to really hurt her would be to put her at risk in the real world. If their spar left vicious wounds she would not be ready if war came knocking at the opening of her den and she needed to be ready at any time. This though conflicted with the feral creature within him. How could she be in true battle if she did not know true pain?

Teeth gnash as he contemplates this, tail lashing behind him. He would not be the one to harm her, not on this day. Ears flicker as mind comes to decision, and his legs follow the silent order. Darting forward, he closes the distance between them, drawing close before slowing down. He comes to a complete stop inches from her face, his sides heave with effort as his breath flows over her in pants. They were both learning the ways of battle, but there had to be a line drawn before they both could not move.

”You are a worthy opponent.”

It is all he says, his eyes a never ending stare as he gazes into her depths. He wants to say more, to relay that she has the raw talent and with more spars she would be ready. Instead he does not, sure that she would be able to read what is not voiced. Knowing that they will spar again soon, than again and again until she is ready he brushes his head against hers for a moment before backing up.

”Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

He turns as if he is about to leave, looking over his shoulder at her to gauge her response. If she wants he would hunt for her, would find her the coolest patch of river from which she could drink. Yet if she is not bothered by any he would just fade into the darkness. It was his way, always there, yet hidden. There was nothing left to discuss anyway. Sweat clung to both their pelts; fatigue glimmered in both their eyes. Emotions are sated, a low murmur in the back of his mind. They had danced, had raged, and he hopes forgiven during the spar. So as he walks away she will know that this time he did not leave her side though. She would feel his stare as she leaves, hear his silent paw falls as he follows. They are separate but together and he would not have it any other way.