There was little hesitation, but it still existed. Blackthorne was larger than Zharko by far. Where he was well fed, his coat glossy, and his body well cared for Zharko was thin, pale, and wretched in comparison. It was only a second before the caution was eaten by bound determination. How was he to prove himself to the world or protect his sister if he could not even protect a rock or a shelter. He would stand where he could, eventually against his father, and he would likely die trying. At least, he would die knowing he had done everything he could.

Yes! He snapped at Thorne, his teeth baring. Under his skin he could feel his malnourished muscled still obey his command and tense. In the snow he lowered himself just a little further. Eyes locked onto the dark pup, burning in the deep red depths. His silent rise to the challenge made his ‘yes’ all the more solid. He glared up at his opponent, daring him to come to the ground, where footing was stable and fight him on equal levels. Proving one’s self went two ways. Zharko had to prove he could stand against the shadows, demons, and dangers that would oppose and challenge him. Blackthorne would have to show he was brave enough to commit to a fight instead of tricks and taunts. It would still be an easy win, he just had to take it along with any of the bites Zharko would manage to deliver as he went down.