While Vargr’s usual partners in crime were nowhere to be found, it seemed he was not about to meet this stranger alone. He would not be the sole ambassador for the forest. Instead, his grandfather’s young second, Björn, had also began following the intruder. The painted boy was not aware of this fact until the moment he leapt for the other male, but he hoped Björn would not get involved and ruin his fun. As far as Vargr was concerned, he had the situation perfectly under control.

Vargr might be at a disadvantage having less real experience, but he also hadn’t just made the long swim between the crossing and Luthien. No matter how much adrenaline coursed through the intruder’s blood, his movements were bound to be more sluggish than the well-rested Vargr. Only time would tell if it would be enough to save Vargr from admitting defeat.

As the other boy moved to dodge his attack and spun, Vargr got a good look at the boy’s face. The little wolf knew bits and pieces about his family, more about his mother’s side than father’s. Physically, he knew that bald faces and mismatched eyes were common features on his mother’s side of the family - neither of which he had inherited. On his father’s side of the family, his mother had mentioned that his yellow, wolfish eyes seemed to be a common feature. While Vargr recognised the similarity that the intruder’s eyes held, he didn’t give a shit about it – nor did he really have time to.

Vargr’s ears burrowed deeper into his black mane and he flung himself into the attack. Blunt teeth sought the flesh of his relation’s cheek just as that relation’s teeth clamped scraped over the flesh just in front of his own cheek. An angry squeal went up in response as he followed the momentum up, kicking out at the intruder while twisting to the right. A dull thud and a sharp pain reverberated across his shoulder as the other boy’s hoof found its mark.

Now, momentarily out of harm’s way, Vargr caught a brief glimpse of another intruder on the side lines. Those same golden eyes caught the dim light and sudden recognition flashed over Vargr’s features for a brief moment. His mother had told him that his father was the lagoon marauder and that he might come for him one day. Vargr did not consider that he might send the lagoon lackeys – family or not.

Yellow eyes snap back to the original male, a distasteful sneer spreading over his dark lips. ”Did he send you? the boy growled, keeping a safe distance only while he spoke, ”Tell him to come himself” he finished, and launched himself at the painted boy once more. Teeth once again sought the fleshy part of the intruder’s face while hooves struck out at his forelegs – if he could leave a mark, his father would know he meant business.