She keeps moving, the slinky viper so that he can not get a good enough purchase to dig into her spinal cord. This angers him but not enough for him to really mind, for this was nothing but a fight turned heated spar. At least it is so in his mind. She has engaged him and wanted to fight it out, to go until he could no longer move even though by now she very well has bested him. So deep was his rage that he allowed her to ravage his leg, foolishness on his part, but it is the way of life. It is the way of the wolf, fighting to earn respect, fighting to live.

He lunges forward, the motion more of an hop lunge as he favors his leg, jaws snapping for purchase. She backs off, keeping her precious legs away from his jaws and it infuriates him. Why won’t she let him give her matching marks? They could look the same, boastful and scarred! Head flips up to attack her face and he is rewarded with feeling his fangs drag down the thin flesh of her muzzle. Triumph bubbles forth, faint yet very much there, as he dares a quick glance. They are not deep enough to leave the scars he envisioned but he is very much sated now. Funny how he only fought to do either of two things, peel back the flesh of her leg or to leave a scar on her muzzle. Well, he did only want to warn her…to punish her for getting into the way and what better way than to leave a scar.

Yet something within him would not let him stop as he kept at her, pushing her and digging into the deep reserves of his energy. He snaps at her again, only to jerk his head back before her paw strikes down. Oh no, this time he is in control of his emotions, he is himself…relatively speaking. However, by jerking his head back he has opened up his neck some and she moves in and up, striking at the flesh at the base of his jaw. Twisting his head he offers her the same space on his lower neck that she had offered him earlier in the fight. He waits to feel her fang dig deep in before he angles his head so that to strike at her shoulder. He aims to sink his teeth in, jerk back, then release. Whether or not he tastes her blood yet again is of little matter as they basically lean on each other, sides heaving as they forced air into their lungs.

Her breath is warm against the delicate flesh of his ear, causing it to twitch some as her words flow over them both. What was his goal? Why did he attack her? What was going on with him?! He knew but it was too deep to talk about. It was too sad really in the grand scheme of how everything was. Dragon was not even his mate, yet he liked to think of her as such. Maybe that was the problem, maybe he had jumped the gun and it was his own fault that he felt the way he felt.

”I do not wish to kill you. Could you not tell that my strikes were non lethal?”

He coughs then as he backs up, spitting out a mouthful of her ebony fur. Good moon the girl had a lot of fur.

”I am Leonidas, you are?”

It is then that he tends to his leg, dragging his tongue across the wound, wincing from the burning that lit in his blood. Moon, that hurt. It had ceased to bleed, yet he felt light headed and pretty exhausted. Loathe to hint at such a weakness he merely lifts his head to view her, pleased to see that she was now free of his gore that had once painted her frontal area.

”We should spar more often.”

He murmurs, unable to get a whole lot out between his own panting breaths. However he knows she will notice that he does not touch on the why of the matter. Why they were fighting to begin with.