Cedar Sweep Rivalry

OMMMG I TOTALLY FORGOT. CRAP. SO SORRY.

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His course is interrupted by the stench of blood, and another far too close to his home for his liking. Redirecting his path, the tank of a man moves to intersect the traveling stranger, disregarding the scent that seems to now steer away from his home. But as he nears, observing through the underbrush does he notice what hangs from the other's mouth. His jowls salvitate and rummble, yearning to fill the absense in his stomach and gap in his rather large appetite; alabaster eyes trained unwavering against what the other holds within her jaws. And he wants it, not out of nessesity for he can hunt his own, but of desire. Stepping forth, every footfall thunders as he picks up speed, revving charging forth with the weight of his mass in each step. He plans to startle, if not completely run the other over, and take what he deems his. His mass is heavy, but his footing his savage and simple precision will tell wether his strike takes.

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