Her attempted offers of submission seem to readily sooth his more primal instincts, content as she settles further back, oblivious to the internal war this seems to cause within her as he seeks to demand it, simply taking the position of leader upon himself for indeed, unless utterly forced to do so the male will continually seek to dominate those around him, mind readily perceiving weakness in others and seeking to exploit them, his unusual....power adding to this already innate ability. His is domineering by nature, cunning and as such will seek to stand over those incapable of forcing his respect. The female, fortunately it would seem, is content to back down and offer him the lead he commands, his ears sliding forward once more, frame relaxing from it's hardened edge and allowing her to travel in comfort beside him once more. If it is packs she seeks, then he will treat her entirely as if she is part of this two creature pack, forcing her into a submissive roll from the beginning, moving to follow her direction all the same as wood changes to harder stones beneath his silent, loping paws. His momentary comment however, seems to unsettle the girl, her question met with little more then a rumbling growl, ignoring her entirely as he continues into the darkness beside her.




The scent of humans is lesser here, his own muzzle lifting to taste at the air before he slides forward, gliding in a manner the canine is entirely incapable off into the shadowy embrace of the warehouse, watching as she moves to leap atop a box and within the confines of this newest warehouse, his own form lifted in a silent and sudden leap straight up, needing no assistance from the flattened box as his claws extend like sharpened knives from their sheaths to catch the cold steel of the fire escape and allow his form to be hauled upward, loping after the wolf once more as she moves to lead, tail lowering in an acceptable sign of her sub ordinance in this moment before her feminine voice touches the air once more, speaking now of his own tail as he scowls- in whatever way it may be said a leopard can offer such a gesture. Long and pretty? Pretty, he thinks, is a girly word, mind unable to understand her use of this in that moment before he snorts.




"It is sexy. Much better....then yours."




Where on earth he has learned this phrase cannot be said and indeed it is highly unlikely that he even understands it, merely repeats it, fairly assured his tail is such a thing regardless, evidently proud of the appendage, allowing it to flick in that moment as he follows her, leaping down and into the darkness as the scent of heated prey seems to force whatever shreds of humanity he clings to still, form brushing up against her own, each powerful muscle rolling and coiling within his iron-hard form. Perhaps he is underfed, skinny, ungainly to an extent, yet what weight he does hold upon him is iron clad, the young male extremely fit from constant work and as such he glides forward like liquid shadow upon the earth, a rumbling growl her only answer as he seeps like liquid into the darkness, his power entirely ignited in these moments, Hunting Instinct fully within his grasp as the wolf crouches beside him, her words causing his tail to flick once more. He does not know what the animals are, merely sees heated flesh before him, the animals moving in such a manner that indicates prey and enflames his desire to kill, desperately seeking that heated bloodied flesh that he has not tasted in some months, living only upon fish these past weeks, tired of their cold, slimy flesh. Her request is met with something almost akin to a glare.




It has been years since he has hunted with another, as pack, a single female wolf hardly counted as such a thing and indeed it would seem he is......ill at ease with such a thing, tail lashing violent once more before he seems to relent. He can take larger prey, perhaps even two, if he is not alone and his desire for more food in this moment sees his acceptance of her presence. Golden eyes drift lazily upon the prey before him, touching each deer (for he believes they are deer) before fixating upon a male within the group, assured the wolf can follow his gaze.




"Weaker then the others....this I...know."




He can feel it's lesser strength, instinct coiling violently around it as he slinks forward, leaping upward with silent ease, climbing into the rafters in the traditional hunting style of the big cat, moving until his black and gold form rests above the pen below, concealed within the shadows, waiting for the wolf to move forward, to cut out the male he has selected, to break it away from the herd so he may drop down on it from above and snap it's neck between deadly claws and teeth, offering them both a meal.....though whether or not he will share remains to be seen.




"Make it....lonely."




Separate it. Cut it out. Chase it from the group. It all means the same to the deranged feral cat.

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