It was with particular care that Tetradore slowly circled around the crying young woman, entirely ignoring the sobs that so wracked her frame as the vulnerable fear and hurt flowed off of her in waves. He knew well that whatever Frost had done to her, clearly would have some sort of lasting effect, one he would contend with later after the man himself and the threat at hand had been dealt with. His own large ebony form pressed forward, each large paw bringing him closer towards the man that so opposed him in a stalking fashion that was the quintessence of his predatory kind. His jaws parted, that low threatening growl reverberated from his chest as he continued moving forward, entirely pleased by his opponents momentary backwards steps - giving in, for now, to the were-king's wants. He knew well of Frost's intelligence, Tetradore was certainly willing to give the Icelandic fellow his merits, as few as they were. He was callous and cold and as of such, the panther himself had little to work with except for the man's sheer self preservation. He knew well his kind was entirely capable of taking down a Draft stallion - after all, Tobias and himself had managed to so fell a bear. In comparison, this should hardly be difficult, requiring a certain left of craftiness, certainly. The only concern the man held, as much as he cared to not admit it, was the simple story Alexis had so told him of. Burning to death was one fact he had not yet found a way to master. His intentions were solely to ensure this conflict ended as swiftly as possible.

He had noticed quickly enough the fashion in which Frost had concluded it was time to stand his ground, the man no longer capitulating in the fashion Tetradore had so desired. It hardly surprised him in the least, however, the man fully expecting at, at some point, that flesh would give way to that ivory fur and, in turn, their rumble would surely begin. His emerald eyes so eyed his companion as he continued to move forward, clearly intending to instigate the very altercation he so wished in order to reclaim, once again, that the West was entirely his. That explosion of fur was hardly startling to the feline, the man entirely aware that Frost's transformation was but an inevitable occurrence. What he didn't anticipate fully, however, was his timing. He knew, of course, of the sheer size of the steed but he hadn't expect how utterly close that fully completed transformation would put him to the bulk of the horse. He felt that crashing weight of the feline, the man's efforts to move from the way succeeded only in that hoof quite veritably knocking the sense from him and for a brief moment, his weight collapsed, the feline entirely seeing stars.

That moment of vulnerability, however, was entirely fleeting, Tetradore fully aware that he had precious little time before the horse came so crashing down upon him. It was with that simple knowledge that he so called out to his own capabilities, letting that once ebony fur be replaced, instead, by a layer of equally as black obsidian. It was a subtle shift, the stone chosen specifically for it's closeness in color to his own flesh if only for the . He could feel, in some fashion, the horse's hooves colliding solidly into the rock that now coated his hide, the blow hardly as crushing as it was meant to be and instead, the feline quite literally let it roll off his shoulders, the cat instead disappearing with the same ease of teleportation that he so often employed. He reappeared but seconds later at Frost's side, launching himself upwards with the same powerful hind legs he so often used to scale entire trees. His intent, however, was the horse's shoulder, that acidic saliva so bubbling at his lips as his teeth snapped attempting to gain purchase on that ivory flesh around the horse's neck. His claws were outstretched, if nothing else intending to gain purchase upon the horse's flesh. His kind, after all, were made with the intent of crushing the skull and he was nothing but ruthless in this endeavor.