"Means you're a worthy opponent," he said. "Trust me. The ones who don't fight back...they're sheep. Dog food." There was a kind of authority in his voice that probably shouldn't have been there, all things considered. "This guy--whatever he was--probably ran right over plenty of people before he came across you. Fighters...well, you're rare." It was a simple statement, neither condescension nor flattery; he'd seen enough of all kind of people to know what he was talking about, and to mean what he said. He wasn't the only creature of his kind; surely the others must value a challenge as much as he did.