[dαєnєrчѕ tαrgαrчєn]

"No, no, no! Your doing it all wrong!" Thistle growled. Soron dropped top his paws. "What? What am I doing so wrong that upsets you?" he snarled at his father. Thistle stalked forward. "You don't bush your fur out, you want your opponent to think that you are small and weak. Then when they attack, they'll find out that they are the weak one. Again," Thistle barked the command, his eyes glittered with menace.

Soron stared in horror as his father slashed at Berlin's muzzle. "Stop!" he howled in terror and launched himself at Thistle. "Traitor!" Thistle screeched, lunging for Soron. He dodged to the side as his dad hurtled at him. Growling, Thistle backed out of the bramble he had ran into, thorns and burrs clung to his hazel-brown pelt. "Soron!" Beetle gasped as she came into the clearing. His dad clearly seeing that he was distracted, he leaped at Berlin, the two wolves tussled on the ground. Blood spattered the ferns as Thistle clawed Berlin's eye, she howled in terror. Triumphantly, Thistle saw his chance and closed his jaws around her throat. Berlin howled in pain. "Berlin!" Beetle gasped. Thistle dropped his daughter.

Soron and Thistle circled each other, baring their teeth, arching their backs, and snarling. "You'll pay for killing Berlin!" Soron growled, he pushed off his hind legs and into the air, he flew across the clearing and onto his father's back. Scoring his claws down his spine and flanks, blood surged from the deep wounds and he jumped off. Soron sat there and watched as Thistle twitched as he slowly died. Soron had left a gouge in his throat and blood was flowing from it like a river. "This isn't over yet..."

Lines are not mine