Redsand Canyon But it shouldn't be difficult to explain

@Donovan Azura
evening, 50 F, moderate rain
territory 1: healer's pass

The beast was most active at night, preferring the cooler temperatures and the way his raven coat blended in with the shadows. Tonight, he made his way along the borders of the most northern part of the canyon; the climate here was more to his liking too, and rain was never something he minded. He stuck to the places where the trees were most numerous, hiding in the darkness as he made sure nothing was out of place along the borders. Of course, he'd welcome a trespasser if it meant inflicting his favorite form of justice. So far, though, things had been quiet aside from the trickling of a nearby stream and the occasional hoot of an owl or scurrying of a some rodent out of his path. Rain spattered through the tops of the tall trees, dampening his coat as he moved, but he didn't much care. 

His trail lead him to the stream eventually, and he stopped to take a drink before wading across it to the other side. Once he was out of the water, he paused only long enough to shake out his dark coat, and then he was off along the borders again, careful to remain in the shadows wherever possible.

Donovan finds himself unable to sleep — like most nights. It’s not because of dreams of his pack or other traumatizing events. He’d rather just do other shit rather than sleep. So he stumbles about the canyon, the usually vibrant red of the clay and rock has now faded into a sickening blue-white painted by the moon watching from above.

He’s comfortable though, walking by himself in the long shadows of the night. The light dancing off of his striped pelt as he weaves in and out of the trees and shrubbery. Unbeknownst to him, the onyx furred male, Midar, skulks about nearby. Donovan continues unaware. Perfect for an ambush.

He heard the steps of another somewhere nearby and for a few moments, he paused and listened. He couldn't tell at first where the other wolf was, and since he was near the borders, his mind immediately jumped to the possibility of an intruder. So he continued to stick to the shadows, careful to keep his steps quiet as he followed the sound. He was unsure of the direction at first and kind of wandered slowly until he was sure. 

As he got closer, the scent of Donovan filled his nose—so not an intruder unfortunately. He couldn't shake the restless need to hunt, though, and so he continued forward until he saw the wolfdog a short distance in front of him. Once he was close enough, Midar moved from the shadows into a beam of light offered by the moon and launched himself forward. He had been searching for a fight and although he wouldn't actually try to kill the other man, he was hoping he'd be up for a rough spar. He hurled himself into the Grandmaster, grabbing a hold of his scruff with a firm but careful hold; he wasn't looking to injure...badly. But he expected the same in return; he didn't mind wounds as long as they wouldn't hinder him in any way. Scrapes and bruises were expected in his type of spars. 

roll is in this thread
also lmk if the attack isn't okay!

Rolls in the thread. Also I meant to have it be 6-10 is Successful soo yeah my b but you know what I meant lol. 
(●´ω｀●)

Donovan is on edge. The bristling hairs along his spine vibrate, screaming at him that there isn’t something right here. The feeling of eyes burning into the back of his head; the feeling of being watched. He knows he is. He’s paranoid enough that he swivels his ears at any little noise. Usually he trusts his instincts, lets the primal urges he feels guide him. This time he doesn’t though. He brushes it off, even though time and time again his instincts have been fucking right.

It seems he’s right once more. When the creaking of the pines around him sound from the swooning wind, he flicks his ears back. Then the smallest crumbling of brush. Then quick steps, too fast for him to react to. Lastly, teeth on his scruff. He thinks this is the real deal, terrified that someone has snuck into his canyon to finally try and end him. He won’t go out that easily. Still, the element of surprise is what gets him and all he can do is thrash about, twisting and turning to try and get a fair opportunity to bite — finally his window opens and he’s shooting his head down  aiming straight for the arranging front leg. 

Grabbing the appendage in his deadly jaws he rips them off to the right, their teeth popping painfully away from his skin. Surely if he hadn’t yanked them so, he wouldn’t have hurt himself as bad. As he yanks them, he’s almost blind to the u forgivable rage of being snuck up on with the intention to slaughter. He’s about to break the arm in between his teeth, shake them viciously until he rips the limb off in a splatter of blood and hanging ligaments.

No. He can’t. His rage is gone in a blink of an eye. Stopping his assault immediately. His golden hues, twins with the stars on a night like this, stare at his with such raw confusion, almost anger. “What the fuck Midar?” He asks panting just sightly more. “I was about to fucking kill you.” He ends, hoping to everything that is good that Midar isn’t actually trying to kill him, he smiles devilishly. “You trying to die tonight, peaches?” He asks more as a joke than anything.

For a few moments, Midar was bucked back and forth as he was unwilling to give up his hold, too fucking crazy to care how dangerous this was. During one particularly forceful thrash, Midar's front leg slipped down Donovan's shoulder, and he was able to grab hold of it and pull. His teeth slid from the other man's scruff, slamming together with an audible click. And then he was on the ground with teeth digging painfully into his leg. He released no sound, though, and he didn't struggle against the hold; he just watched and waited for the rage in the golden depths of Donovan's eyes to switch to recognition. And with the recognition came anger, which amused Midar, his teeth showing slightly with his smirk. 

Donovan claimed that he was about to kill him, and his smile grew. You could have tried, he pointed out, his voice quiet and smooth as he lifted himself from the ground. His leg would be sore tomorrow, but he wasn't too worried about it; he had suffered through worse. 

Peaches. What a strange nickname for a beast such as himself. He wasn't sure he liked being called that, although he let it go this time because he was otherwise distracted by Donovan's question. He answered first with a shrug. I can't say I'm ever actively trying not to die, he answered. But, I was looking to blow off some steam. I was hoping for an intruder to rip apart but then realized it was you and, well, I got carried away. He stretched and shook out his coat before starting to walk again, glancing back with bright violet eyes to see if the Grandmaster would follow.

Donovan chuckles smoothly at Midar’s indifferent reply. He gets where he’s coming from. Donovan would probably do the same. So the brindled male gives in, his already pumping blood continues to do so. He’s ready to get his spar on. By the looks of it Midar is wanting this to be an all in fight, he’ll give him what he wants.

The moonlight glints off his teeth eerily as a devious smirk comes to his maw. Circular brows furrow playfully and his curled tail swishes back and forth, he’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Then let’s blow off some steam.” He hums dangerously. 

Then within that same breath he’s pounding forward and shoving at the other male. Shoulder checking him with close to 200 lbs, he wouldn’t be surprised him he completely knocked Midar over.