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Tepe struck first, when he thought the opponent wouldn't think he was ready yet. He sprang off his hind legs, reaching wide with only just-sheathed claws for the 'enemy'. It was just like hunting, he told himself, except that the 'food' could hit back. He closed well for a beginner, and landed a glancing blow on the brown male's shoulder before trying to dance away out of reach. Of course, something that didn't occur to him was that this was on solid ground. Moving so quickly and easily was much harder in slowly shifting sand. But then again, if he had realized he'd note his opponent had that advantage right now too.

Of course Tepe'd known he was leaving himself open! Really he had! Of course, he fought not to grimace at the feel of a paw grazing his flank. It hadn't hurt, not at all, but it still made it clear that if this was real life or death it probably would have hurt, very badly. Determined not to look bad any more, he spun on a dime and leapt again, this time truly getting the better of the brown lion and boxing him soundly on the side of the head. Ha ha! He'd be seeing stars after that, poor fellow!

Tepe felt his spirits soar at the praise. He'd never wanted anything but to be like his father, absent or not. The lion was his hero, his idol, the standard he strove to match. Of course, overconfidence was never a good thing... His next attack was overeager, obvious, and ducked without trouble by the lion who was his opponent. Still, he didn't feel any sort of disappointment. If he was already this good, he'd be fine by the time he got to the desert! He just knew it! Then his father would be terribly proud of him, and together they'd become two of the greatest fighters in all of Africa!

But Tepe would not listen, didn't hear. He was already too busy imagining himself meeting his father after he proved himself a great warrior. He'd earn his place, save his father, and together they'd go fetch his mother to be the queen. Then they would rule, and one day he'd be king, and he'd make both his mother and father proud. It was one hell of a fantasy, and one that would never come to be even the slightest bit true, but he did not yet realize it.

"I'll try to remember that," He was earnest and genuine, which sated the brown lion, though already his mind was wandering again. It wasn't that he meant to disregard his partner's advice, simply that he felt he'd already absorbed it when he'd not. He'd pay for the assumption later, but for now there was no hard. He would grow as a fighter between now and reaching the desert, it was true, but he'd also realize once he made it that high spirits and bravado did little in the face of lions nearly half again your own size.

All puffed up with his own pride, the dark lion jogged off to fetch a drink from the nearest watering hole, letting his brown partner trail quietly and pensively after.