First Roar

Cold air. Then stiffness cracking. My jaw loosened, parting wide. An adversary stood right in front of me—frozen, hands clasped, yelling silently into the void. Perfect target. I snapped forward with full force, testing my bite. My plush snout bumped against his hard tattooed forearm with a soft, dull thud. He didn't flinch. Good. I let out a low rumble, firmly planting my hind paws. The territory is claimed.