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“Plucsheadáinín! I will kill you!”

Shaking his head, the wolf-dog inhaled sharply then exhaled, coming to a standing position. He padded to the edge of the rocks to face the incoming Jargoth.

“We can talk about thi–” he began to say but was cut off by a missile of red pelt crashing into him like a large falling tree log.

The enraged, heartbroken male roared into Finbar’s face, pinning him with great power. The wolf-dog reacted quickly, having gotten a warm-up from his time with Thorn, and moved his head out of the way, avoiding a storm of sharp fangs. Before Jargoth could make another move, Finbar used his rear legs to kick with all his might into the male’s tender belly multiple times, until he was able to free himself.

With that he wasted no time taking off at full speed down the river, feeling jaws snap at his tail tip just barely missing, making an escape from the crazed wolf.

Finbar sprinted down the riverbank, his paws pounding against the soil of the earth and rounded stones as adrenaline surged terrifyingly fast through his veins. The wind whipped past him, and all he could think about was putting as much distance as possible between himself and the furious red wolf.

He darted around a cluster of boulders, and up over thick tangled roots, the coldness of the river splashing up as he skimmed the edge of the bank. His breath came in rapid bursts. The sound of rushing water filled his ears, nearly drowning out the growls from behind him. He didn’t dare glance back until he felt he had gained enough ground.

When he finally did, he saw Jargoth still in pursuit, his dark-marked fur bristling, green eyes ablaze with hatred, locked onto Finbar like a predator on its prey. He was gaining on him quickly, and the wolf-dog’s heart sank when he realized that he would not be able to outrun this catastrophic problem.

No, he would have to face it head on. Finbar stopped and whipped around to ready himself for his first real battle. However, that is not what ended up happening, after all.

Thorn emerged from the trees with the force of a charging bear, his powerful body colliding with Jargoth in a bone-shaking impact. The red wolf was taken completely by surprise, his legs buckling as Thorn’s weight bore him down.

Jargoth snarled and thrashed beneath Thorn, but the seasoned warrior held him down with ease, his broad paws pressing into the younger wolf’s shoulders. “Enough!” Thorn barked, his voice cutting through the angry male’s growls like a whip. “This is not how we resolve disputes within the pack.”

Thorn’s countenance was unwavering. He had the advantage and knew it, his strength far outmatching Jargoth’s reckless fury.

Finbar was deeply grateful for the help, especially from someone who only yesterday had arrested him and surely sided with an execution sentence. Maybe the gray soldier still thought that even, but he had decided to keep his personal opinions to himself, clearly choosing to honor the Alpha’s decision and orders. Perhaps it was mercy, as well; Willow was already going to be scared enough by the loss of her mate's ear, she likely could not handle anything worse happening. There was also a chance that it was to spare Finbar from further pain.

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All of the above were possible, but the hybrid knew one thing for certain; Sir Thorn had some good character within his heart.

Jargoth continued to struggle, his fury unabated, but Thorn didn’t relent. He pressed down harder, forcing Jargoth’s head into the dirt. “Stand down, Jargoth. You are not thinking clearly.”

Willow's former betrothed felt his struggles weakening as Thorn’s words slowly seeped in. The bitterness in Jargoth’s eyes did not wane though, and it was clear that he would not let this go for a long while.

Finbar simply stared, unsure of what to do.

Thorn kept him pinned, his tone firm yet calm. “Finbar didn’t take Willow from you, she decided to take him on her own.”

Jargoth snarled, his voice a low, bitter rumble. “He is an outsider. He does not belong here.”

“The Alpha has made a ruling,” Thorn countered, not easing his hold on the red wolf. “You have to respect it.”

It was entertaining to see his attacker being treated like a pup.

For a long moment, the only sound was the river rushing nearby through the spring foliage, and the tension between the two was penetrating. Then, Jargoth stopped struggling; though his emerald eyes still burned with resentment and his throat emitted rumbles, he seemed to realize the futility of his actions.

Satisfied that Jargoth had finally calmed down, to some extent, Thorn gradually released him, stepping back but keeping a watch on the younger male. Jargoth rose to his large paws, his stance hesitant and submissive, though this was all very forced as he still held a cutting glare at his sworn enemy.

Finbar held his breath, unsure of what would happen next. Thorn’s presence offered a measure of security, and he knew that, for now, the brazen red wolf wouldn’t dare challenge him again… not under the prying sight of everyone else, that is. He would need to be careful not to end up alone if he could avoid it going forward, for now until maybe sometime in the future Jargoth got over it. How likely was that really, though?

The white canine's heart pounded, the drama offering a poisonous, thorny grip on his insides. While he could handle himself, the whole situation was very upsetting and emotionally charged.

“You and I are not done,” Jargoth snarled, facing Finbar, ears down. He was watched carefully by the gray wolf to make sure he did not attack again, muscles primed and ready to act. “I challenge you to a duel.”

‘Duel?’ Finbar tilted his head.

Thorn narrowed his eyes. “What are your terms for him?”

Jargoth licked his lips. “To the death. The honor of ourselves will be at stake. The victor wins the rights to Willow.”

Thorn seemed surprised, and a bit annoyed. “You are insane,” he chided. “I am sure the Alpha never agreed to let you query for this. His daughter, honored may she be, is not property to be gambled with!”

“This is a deal between men, Thorn. You would understand that, wouldn't you?” Jargoth sneered.

Finbar's heart skipped a beat. These were heavy terms, with such dark implications; he did not have any interest in killing a peer, he would rather just get along with the crimson wolf. Not that he would be able to make a kill, or even defeat, his opponents this early in training, but on top of that the wager could bring harm to his family.

“What do you plan to do with my pups if you were to win?” Finbar asked slowly, feeling a culminating protectiveness. It was bad enough that Willow would stand a chance at losing him, but if she were to lose the children, too…

Jargoth snorted. “Nothing bad, I promise,” he said firmly, but there was an edge to his tone that the white wolf-dog did not appreciate.

Finbar curled back his lips and strode confidently past the suspicious male. “Yea, right. Get lost, jackass,” he gave a low growl, “and stay away from my family.”

Behind him came the sounds of gnashing teeth, biting at his heels, but he did not even look back; he kept walking onward back to the group. He felt safe in trusting Thorn to not let anything escalate; they barely knew each other, but they were still a pack and Finbar took a leap of faith figuring that learning to rely upon one another was a key point in their way of life.

“Coward! Get back here! I will end you!”

No harm came to Finbar that day. Nothing malicious, that is.