When he woke up with a pounding heat and a tremor in his paws, Kjors knew it was time.  The beast was wicked and awake, rolling in his chest as every last nerve seemed to snap with electricity.  Today was the day.  One sideways glance told him @Karina was still curled up on her side of the den (or had abandoned the nest earlier in wee hours of the night).  Wishing not to disturb her (for if the dragon raging inside his skull cared for one thing, it was the princess plucked from her tremulous position and safely secured within his cache), the timber wolf slithered forth without a sound.  He did not so much as exhale until he was a few paces away from the hole he called home.

Breaking his usual habit, the male turned away from Zephyr Rill, trotting towards the heart of Hearthwood River's territory.  It was there he would find the communal den, disgusting thing that it was, for it was not @Kisla or her cubs that he sought today.  Instead, it was a particular pack member that he'd known only in passing, a scarred timber wolf barely passed into adulthood currently occupying the position above him.  What did a boy know about rank, anyways?  What did give him the right to lord over a creature so fierce?

The fact that they'd never rightfully interacted outside of passing glances did not matter to the dragon as he slithered forward, following a scent trail as he sought out Karpos.  Today was the day, today was the day, today was the day.  He would take his fate back into his own paws, and Mother bless him, he'd begin his ascent with the wolves of the river to witness him.

Once the dark male was in sight, he slunk up behind the heftier wolf.  "Karpos," he hissed, single eye gleaming, "Ah'd have a word wi' ya."

"Well, Ah suppose we're 'bout t' find out, aren' we?" the male drawled, halting several paces away from the younger wolf.  It did not have to come to blows immediately, and it was with some relief that it seemed Karpos was inclined towards conversation.  A dragon he might be, but he was not uncouth nor was he uncivilized, and there was a certain way to go about these things.  (A certain way that did not involve poison or other underhanded methods – power hungry he might be, but the timber wolf had his own set of standards he held to, and had very distinct ideas about how a rank challenge should proceed.)

To make his point, he kept his banner where it was, not submitting willingly when the other wolf made his point like he may have a few weeks prior.  Then, it was too soon, he was too new and untrusted.  Allowed some time and participation, he imagined it would simply be seen as ambition rather than devious plotting – and it wasn't far from the truth.  He had little desire to unseat either of the alphas at the moment, simply to raise his position beyond that as lowest adult member.

Clearing his throat, he turned to pace counterclockwise, his single eye focusing on the younger male.  He too wore scars – he'd not be completely naïve to the game.  His training was unknown, but it was best to assume he had some, being an adult member.  After the…fiasco at Broken Timber Pines, he was not quite so eager to lunge into the fray blindly.  "Ah'm not gonna waste yer time 'er mine.  Ah'm not gonna insult yer intelligence, Ah suspect y'know wha' this is about.  Y'gonna step down, Karpos, or will y'fight for yer spot on th' hill?"

"'spected as much," the dragon rumbled softly, inclining his head. Were Karpos so willing to hand over his position, someone else would have taken it already. The copper prince, for example, was a particularly motivated young wolf, and he had no doubt as soon as he was able, the yearling would start picking his way up the ranks. (In fact, soon enough, Orren might come for his own position, he reasoned wryly, and that was something he'd have to keep an eye on.)

Regardless, now was not the time to be considering his future or whom he may need to defend himself from. He was offered the first move – whether this was custom or whether the guardian simply felt he knew something the dragon did not, the older man would never know. Instead, he rolled forward – his left hind twinged, the recent skirmish a more tangible memory than he might wish. Despite the princess' best efforts, the sprain wasn't totally healed – healed well enough to walk, even scout along borders with relative ease, but perhaps he had overestimated how well he'd healed. There was little Kjors could do for it now – he'd thrown the gauntlet, and his pride would not allow him to suddenly change his mind and slink away with his tail between his legs. If he'd jumped into the ocean over his head, he'd swim, by the Mother's name he'd swim and drag himself to shore, regardless.

His lunge was slower than he might have liked and he dove downwards, moving to grab one of Karpos' forelimbs. If he could trip the younger male up, he might have a chance – unfortunately, it seemed the Mother still was not with Hearthwood River…or rather, not with him. He would have to consult on this later, perhaps, when he wasn't snapping after a leg he just couldn't reach.

Shit.

Red hot panic raced down the wolf's spine like a bolt of lightning as his jaws clicked around empty air. Youth took the advantage of him, dancing out of harm's way. Dark legs cavorted out of his reach, pristine as they were when this all started, and it was then the subordinate realized how drastically he'd overreached himself. Not only had he not allowed himself to heal fully, a truly juvenile mistake, but he had underestimated the extent of the guardian's ability. Ranked third in the hierarchy, and a young man still, he'd not expected him to be so educated in the art of war.

He was wrong.

The dragon refused to give up so easily and surged upwards, about to retaliate when thick knives closed around his scarred muzzle. Kjors roared angrily, single eye wide in shock as he was captured. Between blindness and self-pity, he'd allowed himself to fall prey. It took only a moment, and his opponent held him firmly. A pause could only mean he was waiting to see whether the smaller male would concede or continue the fight. Clear as day he was losing, but the former alpha could not capitulate just yet.

Digging in, the challenger coiled his head back, protecting his neck as he sought to push himself forward, either dislodging himself or injuring Karpos' lower jaw in the process. Instead, having forgotten the old injury he should be nursing, he felt something twinge painful and the surge was cut short, pain searing up his hind end as the dragon plunged earthward instead, wings clipped as he wildly tried to wrestle himself free of the guardian's grasp.

He would try again. Luck, it seemed, had finally turned a bit – even if it still did not favor the dragon, at least it didn't seem to be on Karpos' side anymore, either. While his attempt at an escape had become more of an uncontrolled lurch, it still seemed to do the trick. Where the older male had slipped, so had his opponent and while it came at the cost of lacerations across the bridge of his muzzle and his snout, it was better than have his face shoved into the slick mud. With a soft growl, the swarthy swashbuckler licked a dribble of blood from his lip before momentarily assessing his situation.

Kjors had been given another shot – whether or not it was intended by his Mother was a moot point. His pride did not allow him to submit when he was offered an opportunity to redeem himself. Returning the guardian's growl, his tail lashed behind him as he bared his teeth once more, stepping forward with purpose to strike at his superior once more. If he could have this rank, if he could just– earn this title-

Thoughts silenced as he lunged, moving to grapple at the younger wolf's ruff. He did not have the advantage of size, but he was used to his superior speed…something that had been severely hindered by the injury to his hind limb. As the dragon surged up like a wave, he snapped at thin air once more and it finally dawned the subordinate that his chance of succeeding in this endeavor had dwindled. It was over, and he was only doing himself a disservice carrying on so foolishly.

Slumping backwards, the male dropped his tail as he pressed his ears backwards, gingerly lowering himself towards the earth as he shook his head. "Ah've made an error in judgment. Ah concede," he muttered venomously, single golden eye staring straight ahead.

Forfeit.