Determination alone could not keep Al within his reach. Edmund flipped over as his paws slid loose of Al's skin, dragging a hard line of claws in their wake, not enough to draw blood, just to rake fur to the surface and beneath. Fighting in Were form was not always pretty.

Al slid away. And began - dammit - circling again. Edmund, panting, would almost rather he fling himself on him and actually fight. This cat-and-cat game (for omega or not, Edmund was no mouse) was beginning to wear on him. He tsked, a reproving sound low under his rought tongue.

"You're stalling." Endurance was Al's weakness. That, at least, Edmund knew. He flopped over on his back, waving his tail, exposing his belly. The minute Al drew near, he would dart away, flipping over with his speed equal to the indomitable Lion's and finding a new place to perch. "You know you just want to pin me down. Why don't you?" Some of the old Edmund was back in his teasing, his defiance, his unrelenting will to win.