His heart in this form was used to sudden bursts of energy - and yet the sight of Al, gleaming pale and beautiful in all his leonine glory once more, had the power to make his pulse race as though it would burst right out of his chest. Edmund panted, letting himself cool off a little. It wouldn't do to start this fight already in a state of frenzy; he'd wear himself out far too quickly with the bigger, stronger Lion.
The Panthers fought smartly. That was their advantage; that and their whip-cord speed, a split second altering their course to some wholly unexpected place from which to launch their attack.
That was how he had to approach this fight. Logic battled with biology as he felt the warmth of Al's head against his chin. He lifted his own head proudly, rubbing his greeting back as befit King to Steward, and huffed beneath his breath. Al still smelled as good as he always did, but Edmund was nowhere near heat, and so it was a bearable instinct today.
Thank Aslan.
"For Narnia," he growled in the brief traditional salute, before he slithered away and began circling Al, pacing. His whiskers quivered as if tasting the air between them. Whoever pounced first was often at a disadvantage. It was in the interest of the smaller opponent to suss out the movements first, judging the best plan of attack. This wasn't Al, this was his rival for the title. That's all he needed to remember.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-07-21 10:44 pm (UTC)The Panthers fought smartly. That was their advantage; that and their whip-cord speed, a split second altering their course to some wholly unexpected place from which to launch their attack.
That was how he had to approach this fight. Logic battled with biology as he felt the warmth of Al's head against his chin. He lifted his own head proudly, rubbing his greeting back as befit King to Steward, and huffed beneath his breath. Al still smelled as good as he always did, but Edmund was nowhere near heat, and so it was a bearable instinct today.
Thank Aslan.
"For Narnia," he growled in the brief traditional salute, before he slithered away and began circling Al, pacing. His whiskers quivered as if tasting the air between them. Whoever pounced first was often at a disadvantage. It was in the interest of the smaller opponent to suss out the movements first, judging the best plan of attack. This wasn't Al, this was his rival for the title. That's all he needed to remember.