Yes! Such a bold word by such a puny little wolf, Blackthorne thinks. Then he grins, his flashing eyes narrowing upon Zharko, weighing him, measuring him. Finding him worthy enough to defend his own against and yet, Thorne would not have hesitated regardless. A challenge against him made the blood within his healthy figure burn. His mind churned and instinct demands he defend himself, prove his own strength to the world. He had jumped down to challenge Zharko and watched as the boy lowered himself, snarling and demanding.

There is no real forethought as the black and silver creature launches himself at the smaller boy. His ears pin back and he grins wickedly as he dives in with silent finesse. No doubt, he thinks, Zharko would launch upwards at him but Blackthorne is a juggernaut in his desire to fight. Pain? It was worth it, almost a desirable after effect of exerting himself. So if Zharko bites him, so be it. He aims to thrust his weight upon Zharko's neck and upper shoulders, attempting to come down much like a fox would with forepaws used as pistons.

If he manages to knock the boy to the side, hopefully to the ground, his silver maw will flash down to rip at the males ears and cheek. These bites are not intended to kill but perhaps maim, or at minimum cause pain. It is only up to Zharko how far the wretched Thorne would go... submission, however, was required.