He was pleased, in some sense, to be away from the Ark even if only for one night. The constant noise of the fighting rings seemed to wire his senses and coax at those far more feral instincts in the already barely tamed boy. That constant feed of adrenaline was exhausting and yet he was hardly capable of preventing it. He relished those battles. Even if precious few ever scored highly enough to demand Tobias come down from his throne above to challenge them. The lanky Leopards reputation often far preceding him to the point few were daring to pit themselves against a creature most argued was hardly sane. Tonight however, his veritable playing had been shut down, his staff released and those members of his pack allowed to enjoy the full moon as they saw fit. The golden spotted deviant having slipped into the forests of the south with his canine night for those games he loved best. His own long, lanky form slipped silently ahead of her as only a cat could truly do before leaping up and into the trees, relishing those high places and removing his scent from the earth. He leapt then from branch to branch and tree to tree until he coiled himself about in the uppermost branches of one- golden eyes peering into the dark of the night below to wait for Raven to attempt to find him. His mate lacking his own powers in this regard to find what she sought so instantly.

It is that salted, metallic scent of blood that draws his own attention then. The scent so potent seeming to cling to the air as his pupils dilate readily and with a decided glee. What little humanity exists within him is so readily overwhelmed by those predatory instincts. Something bleeding surely meant food, a meal, something to hunt as his tail lashed in anticipation. The press of Birdie's words to his mind through that pack bond see both ears prick forward and yet he hardly moves for now, his own fractured mind merely turning about within the confines of his skull, jaws parting to allow himself to inhale that scent once more. It smells of dog. Female dog. Like Birdie yes, but not Birdie, no, no. He has fed upon his own kind before, his mind so often lacking any sense of morals and yet he is hardly given to care. Morals are for the sane. He slides like liquid from that tree, slipping into the shadows to pace towards that pooling blood and the scent of panic. A rumbling purr rises within his throat at the presence of his own mate, dilated eyes resting still upon the mass of white fur collapsed at her paws, his ability for compassion so non-existent. He is rarely capable of it. His mind simply does not work as such. The shaggy haired boy even further removed from his decidedly lacking humanity within this form and in this moment he sees only something weak, dying and vulnerable.

His form shifts lower as he approaches, hard, taut muscles rippling beneath that glorious golden pelt. His form taking up a hunters pose if there ever was one, stalking closer towards what he is sure is a meal. Since the death of Tetradore there has been none to control him and he hardly sees a need to assist the fallen Were as his mate so clearly does and yet.....Birdie was in the way, blocking him, nosing at the bloodied white fur as a rumble of discord rises within his throat. She shall be cross with him if he takes her prize (because clearly Raven wants to eat it too), his tail lashing once more in frustration as he lifts from that Hunters pose to stalk forward now and eye that fallen dog. Perhaps he might steal it, when Raven was not looking- and drag it up a tree as Leopards are want to do- his own muzzle lowered to sniff at it, features wrinkling in response before he moved to ease back onto his hunches. His words broadcast now for all to hear. His speech as fractured and broken as always.

It is.....dying. Not good....for.....keeping as...friend. Maybe....Tobi...can have....it? Birdie.....should....share.

madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push