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As he approached the cliff-side fighting area, Rebel trained his eyes on his chosen opponent. Here they would battle over a chance to become the leader of their little assorted group of wolves. As much as the wolf liked to think of himself as independent, he could not deny the pull of pack membership. He wanted to find out more about the Darkness, to question why members of the Great Packs had yet to return from their quest. He knew that he needed to belong to this new pack to fulfill his curiosity. A breeze rustled the adolescent's wild mane of fur as he breathed deep, trying to center himself. Rebel simply could not allow a wolf to become alpha until he had challenged him. He would not be able to accept someone else's leadership unless he had tried. Then and only then would he be satisfied enough to run with this pack.

Rebel gave the older male one firm nod. "My name is Rebel, and I'm no pup," he voiced. He settled into a comfortable stance of readiness: legs apart, body slightly lowered and tilted forward, poised to strike. Do not falter, he told himself. The rock beneath his paws would be slippery and treacherous. There were no delusions of grandeur here.

He would not betray his intentions with more small talk. He darted forward, hoping that youth would be on his side for this fight. He was quick and agile, but not as strong as Issun seemed. Rebel attempted a feint to one side, and would follow with an attempt to strike at the wolf.

((HP: 20))

The momentum from his failed attack carried Rebel right past Issun. His paws slid across the stone floor, scattering pebbles everywhere as he braced himself to slow down. He regained his footing but could not turn in time to avoid the counter attack. Rebel yelped in surprise as his left hind leg suddenly failed to support his weight, and his body wobbled violently in response as he was forced to balance on three legs. Turning his yelp into a growl, Rebel dropped down lower and snapped his jaws at Issun's legs.

((HP: 16))

Issun's leg left Rebel's mouth, which was now lined with red. He had tasted his opponent's lifeblood. The younger wolf threw all his weight forward to counter-balance Issun's attempt to throw him backward, but he did not linger. Brute strength was not his forte. He would have been swiftly tossed aside, had he stayed in one place. Instead, Rebel darted around Issun and headed for the high ground. The side of the mountain was steep, the climb difficult, especially with his smarting leg. But Rebel was soon turned around, and he lunged at Issun again.

((HP: 16))

Failing to connect with the older male, Rebel's paws pounded the ground as he landed in Issun's place. He bent his legs to absorb the impact, as he'd been taught in his youth. It seemed as though some lessons did come in handy at times. Turning his head to catch Issun's next move, the wolf was able to back out of his way. He was thankful to have avoided the undoubtedly painful blow he would have been dealt, had the attack hit him. Narrowing his eyes, Rebel decided to circle back and try for a sideswipe. He leapt at the other male again.

((HP: 16))

At first, he wasn't quite sure what had happened. One minute, he was pushing himself towards Issun, paws outstretched. Within seconds, Rebel was on the ground, blood pouring from the side of his face. The multi-colored wolf had connected marvelously, using all of his momentum as the paw had swung at him. Rebel's vision in one eye was blurred and gradually reddening. Blood was dripping in a steady stream from his brow, getting in his eye and irritating him. His snout was likewise marked with the little bleeding tracks left by Issun's claws.

He gave out an anguished howl, writhing on the ground. Rebel's face was in agony, burning and throbbing in pain, but at least the wolf was impressed with the hit he had taken. He was lucky that the impact hadn't broken his neck. Now, time was of the essence. He had to get up. Laying on the ground was suicide in a fight, everyone knew that. Rebel forced his legs to cooperate; they would have to bear his weight. He pushed himself up, sitting on his haunches, and charged with all his might in Issun's direction, hoping to shove the wolf off his feet.

((HP: 10))

The exertion of forcing his body to work when all it wanted to do was collapse into a heap of fur and sleep for two months was taking its toll on the teen. His labored breathing came in short, sharp, pants. He was tottering on his paws despite his attempts to keep them under control, and nearly crashed to the ground during his charge. He had severely misjudged the distance to reach Issun, that much was apparent when he failed to reach the adult in the number of steps he had expected. It was becoming much more difficult to keep his pawpads from slipping on the stone beneath them, and blood from his face dotted the ground in irregular drips.

Unable to stop himself, Rebel was jousted off his feet by Issun's headbutt, and landed on his side with a painful grunt as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. As he began to slide down the side of the mountain, Rebel was seized with a sudden panic and his paws scrabbled for purchase, claws digging desperately into rock. His vision swam as he dizzily tried to avoid looking down into the valley below, and squeezed his eyes closed. A pitiful, involuntary whine wrenched its way out of Rebel's throat and his ears flattened as he clung on for dear life, his body pressed as close as he could get to the slanted ground. He was deeply humiliated at the sound he had just made, but even more troubled that he was seriously considering forfeiting this fight. But what kind of wolf would he be if he backed down? And... what would his father think? No. He pushed that to the back of his mind and opened his eyes again. He could not give up. Would not give up. Rebel once again forced himself to stand. He was barely staying upright on the forty-five degree angle of the cliff edge, well below his opponent, but he was still alive, and he would fight.

Taking a few deep breaths, Rebel began to make his way back up to where he had left Issun. He would crawl, hop, climb, or walk, but he was getting up there. And when he reached the adult, he would harness the last remaining vestiges of his strength to make an attack.

((HP: 5))

He was slowing down, and he knew it. By the time he got up to Issun and tried to attack, it was clear that Rebel would not win this fight. His persistence was only drawing out the inevitable. Although his wounds were not permanent, Rebel could only see out of one eye, and his head was pounding. He was in no condition to fight anymore. Even though he wanted to, his body chose that moment to give up. He hung there, limp as Issun held his scruff in his mouth. It was over.

He couldn't even extend one paw out to nudge against Issun's chest to tell him to let go of his mane. Rebel's hind legs were still touching the ground, but his front paws were hanging. He felt that Issun was not the cruel sort, otherwise he would be in much worse shape than he was right now. "You win. Let go?" he managed, trying to keep his pride intact but knowing it was swiftly being lost to the wind.

((HP: 0))