What had transpired over the summer when the unknown female had duped him into thinking she was an innocent, injured wanderer had been something of an eye opener for Sleekwing. Though he’d held his own in the fight easily enough, it was the days that followed which had troubled him. He no longer bounced back from a fight quickly, and his aged body took longer to heal than it once had. Approaching seventeen years of life, Sleekwing was past the prime of his life. And though he knew he still had many good years left in his body, it was time to pass the helm of Master Warrior and Defender of the Realm on to another. Baird had shown promise to be that wolf, and the diligence he had shown to take up shifts of border patrol proved he was a worthy candidate. But the true and final test remained – a spar to test his abilities in the art of fighting.

Cerulean blue eyes haloed in lavender lifted at the sound of Baird’s voice as it lilted across the mountain skies. His silver banner waved out behind him once, his aging body invigorated by the cold winter air. Looking up at the partly cloudy sky, the ghost of a smile flashed across his features. He thought it a fine day to spar, indeed. With that he took off, loping towards where his apprentice’s voice had originated. It wasn’t far to go, as he’d been nearby. Paws splayed wide to serve as snow shoes, keeping him mostly on top of the snow with its crystallized icy surface. He still occasionally broke through, a paw sinking further in than expected, only just slowing him down.

His breath clouded the air before him as he came into the wide, flat clearing where Baird waited. Circling, he slowed to a jog and then came to a stop opposite of his pupil. There was a gleam in Sleekwing’s eyes, almost playful, and yet at the same time challenging. He knew that fighting your superiors was a daunting task, even if it was only a spar and meant to teach. The first time Sleekwing had challenged his father, Alcide, to a spar in his youth had been nerve wracking, the desire to prove oneself and impress his father and alpha nearly overwhelming. But there was something about fighting that helped him clear his mind and focus on what must be done. Whether Baird had that capability within him would be shown today.

Lifting himself slightly and tucking his chin to guard his throat – a stance that had become second nature to the heather streaked warrior – his tail flicked once as his gaze settled upon the young male. “Show me what you’ve got,” he proclaimed simply. This, too, was a test. Perhaps he could have snuck up on Baird, attacked him from behind and tested what his reaction would be. But sometimes the true challenge was being the one to strike first, to fend off a threat before it could present itself in full. Whether Baird was capable of attacking first was an important thing for Sleekwing to know, before he fully passed the helm of Castellan to him.