He pulled himself back into the shade of rocky overhang just over the mist that draped from an erupting geyser. The foam ramsacked the air as steam coupled with it to provide the bubbling pool something much more spectacular than regular water. While he didn't care for the natural healing properties, he enjoyed being around the heat. This place he noted down specifically for when the winter came to freeze everything else to death.

The useful thing about heat was it's ability to amplify smells. The air atoms and particulates bounced around alot more in the heat that the cold, which nullified smells exponentially. So the moment Flicker has arrived, it took only seconds for Siqsa to take notice. 
Damp heat clung to his dark navy fur, giving him the hue of an oceanic's abyss. The yearling was nearly 2, and it would only be a few more months before he managed to grow into his prime stature. Even now he was growing to be larger than average, his last remaining pup features fading into much more intimidating illustration. 

Standing from his resting spot, he looked around, shrouding everything in his molten gaze of scarlet topaz irises. Someone was here, and he had to ensure it wasn't an enemy. It was clear it was another wolf, but he couldn't pinpoint whether it was one of the recently met 'Blacktail' or whether it was an entirely different pack, all together. 

His eyes narrowed at he lack of announcement; surely they had to know he was here. He could smell them, but they could not smell him? Indignation rose in his chest as he felt insulted. He completely overruled the potential for them being nose-blind or him being too far from notice by their own proximity. All he knew was his pride had been scratched by the unintentional insult. His tongue sharpened as it began to prepare to exchange sharp words instead of a simple greeting, if he chose to open his mouth at all. 

Rising from his comfortable sport amongst the heated land, his head lowered, the usual mass of his no longer held imposingly, but held in the manner of a pather which stalked. He was a shark now, placing himself in a hunt for this unknown company. Serpentine in his pursuit, his banner snaked from side to side with every completed set of steps, and silently he came across the trail of this other lupine. 

Auds swiveled as they locked onto sounds made further out of the clouds of steam pluming in a drift. Washing up out of the sea of heat, the dark navy and ebony quadruped emerged like a titan. And immediately his gaze locked onto the back of a cream and scarlet russet back, a body built from mountains and the toils of lone wolf judgement.

He wasn't too far from them, and another scant inhale allowed him to discern her lack of family. No one else's perfume intertwined with hers, and his assumtion of her body was confirmed. He wouldn't say anything to her though, no.
Siqnas would simply scowl at her as though she was the worst wolf in the world. Fiery eyes on the back of her neck, he waited for her to feel that creeping suspicion that she was being watched. She had made him uncomfortable, and this was her having a taste of her own medicine. 

His own growl was light, only just scorning the fringes of his word's end.

Choosing to remain guarded around this flashy female, Siq stayed standing. If she struk first, it had better been to kill him, as his retaliation was going to be murder.
Despite this, would they stay civil?

Disinterest crossed his face as she snarled at him even more. But the more hostile she became, the more interested he had gotten. The little voice in his head whispered to walk away from something like this, she was right to be hostile. But that same voice voiced over to kill her, to drag he through the seething waters of this place, to drown her in a molten puddle of her own blood. To revel in her bubbly cries as he held her down and rejoiced in her passing. 
What the hell was wrong wth him?

[font]She offended him, but he wouldn't bring it up. It was only his pride; it could heal over twice as strong. The dark male actually decided to chalk it up to-[/font]

It could certainly be assumed he was talking about her, when in all reality he was referencing himself. Siqsa hadn't taken it into consideration himself, however. And nonchalantly he began to head back into the field of steam and warmth. Whether she would attack him with his back turned or not was completely unregistered in his mind. 

It hadn't occurred to the younger boy anything more than when he heard the snarl. It was seconds after when he felt the wind heighten in built up energy that he mulled over his final words. Only the slight connection between the word and the gender which he was dealing with came to be after he found himself no longer staring ahead-
but up. 

He felt winded, as though he took a hoof to the chest. Could have been his back hitting the hard stone and dirt, or whether it was her that knocked him somewhere that made him winded. Could have been both. But the only thing he could muster out from his lips in this swindling wad of unknowing, was, 

Staring heatedly at the woman above him, his own body wrenched almost serpentine as it whipped around to face itself, properly. Limbs and body worked in a near otherworldly manner, flexing his body up with jagged movements that somehow ended up being normal. And in the same fluid movement, he threw himself at the older fae, intent on ending her. 
He hadn't even registered his need to breathe; his form was almost that of a work of fluidity in reality as his lurch was a demand for her soul. However he wanted to have it, it would be met. As a member of the Nightmares, it was mandatory for each pup to defend themselves against peers and superiors, alike. Considering he was the soul survivor of such a pack, whether it be by his fang or not, it still spoke of his aim to remain alive.

Fangs primed for the stretch of her exposed and gorgeously there shoulder, he concentrated on his lunge more than his defense. His attack was far more pristine than his speed however, and as genetics spoke it, he would be massive and powerful, unlike the swift and nimble usuals he had either barely bested with a delivered blow, or been ruined by their ability to dodge his attacks with their agility. Curses left his lips with hateful seethe as his pride had been nipped by a girl.

If his attack was unsuccessful, he's go for the feint to her lower forelimb of the opposite side, snapping ivories to trap it into a sharkish bite of make her resign her assault.