Sacre stood on a prelude to a battle he felt certain he would lose, but it didn’t deter him. It wasn't a spar for glory, or selfish need, nor was it an attempt to help Mauja or become the most fearsome warrior in the Worlds Edge. Sacre sought a way to protect, to have enough strength to defend those he loved and nothing more. Mauja had lived far longer than he had, seen far more than he had and, perhaps, lost more than he had. The stained boy sought the Frozen Light because he wanted to know what skills his fathers old friend had obtained over such a turbulent time. As the storm rumbled in the background and the day grew darker, Sacre listened to the lecture he was given and smiled when he finished. The persistent wind rattled his dark, tangled mane around his face and the boy struggled to see past it, but he didn’t struggle in his response.

“Have you ever enjoyed it? Drawing blood that is” Sacre asked curiously, wondering if the sudden speech on violence was to do with something that was bothering him. Didn’t Mauja, along with his father, lose the Worlds Edge? Had Mauja felt like hurting someone then? Maybe he was worried that Sacre would become like d’Artagnan and, admittedly, Sacre worried about that too. Yet, so far, he had never come across a time when he had enjoyed someone else’s pain and he had never felt the presence of madness. That wasn’t to say he had never felt the burning of anger either and many times on his journey back home he had thought about whom he should blame for everything. His father? His mother? The Rift? Everyone? He blamed himself in the end, the cowardly son who ran from conflict and couldn’t protect any of them. He had made it his life’s goal to make a world for him and Roux, to find a way to return sight to his twin, but he grew complacent in the heat of the southern Dragon land. Sacre had grown comfortable when he hadn’t solved anything, even when his own heart had skipped for a moon-faced girl; he never had the courage to tell her.

Now look where he was.

By the kindness of Mauja he had been thrown a chance at another life, another herd and Sacre was making a point of not fucking it up again. Or at least, if it did fuck up, it wasn’t because he didn’t try.

“Teach me” he requested of Mauja, as his fathers bag fell to the floor and Sacre watched him place it next to the pine before continuing “I don’t want to hurt others, I don’t wish harm on anyone, but I must know how to defend what is close to my heart. I’m sorry my reason is completely selfish for asking you to spar with me, but I feel like you would know best,” he said with great determination. He wasn’t a warrior; he didn’t want a lesson in how to win a war or want some help with a special move he had created. Sacre wanted to know how to survive and he felt like Mauja would know more about how to survive.

With that he took a breath and considered the battlefield in front of him. It was getting dark, the darker it got the more Sacre would be harder to see, but Mauja was 17.2hh of blazing snow. Would it get dark enough? Perhaps not. There was also the issue of the staff he carried—what did that do? Was he going to hit him with it? Sacre was considerably smaller than his opponent too and that, combined with experience, left him with little chance of winning. Yet, the stained son would take that small chance and offer Mauja the best he had. The point was to learn not to win.

Did he use his magic? He thought back to the old Queen's words on drawing blood and found it ironic that his own magic allowed him to make his adversary's sweat their own blood. Little did Mauja know, Sacre didn't even have to mark his opponents for their to be blood dripping down their pelts. He could rob him of his breath, leave him trembling like a newborn, but that wasn't the point of today? Was it?

”Stay” he gently told Inari, the red fox, who looked disgruntled but fell back to stand by the leather bag under the pine tree. Ríona remained by his side, her six tails flicking in the wind as she waited for her bonded to make a move—and he did. When silence settled he charged at Mauja's left side, flicking his backend towards Mauja and aiming to quickly slam a kick into his fleshy rump.