The Floodlands Don't get hot and flustered

Things seemed to slow for the progress he wanted with Corra, and it was growing harder for him to feel the need to court her- 'You are NOT courting her, Dawson. You are to bring her back home, regroup, and revisit. That is the plan. Stick to the plan.' Vehement reinforce of his plans. It seemed as hard as he tried to stick to it, however, he reverted back like some desperate and incompetent fool. He was an Odolf, herald of the legacy! There was discipline in him, engraved in his very making- 

But where lie all your gods when you made them up?

The ivory and cream serpent snaked a pattern in the elken trail, hoping to stir up some game. Various rodents and smaller scurriers flew past him with livid speeds, but he did not bother to pursue them. Bitterly, he knew how both lupines needed something much larger than rabbits and patridges every other day. Not that he was attempting to impress her, or anything. He could not have been. 
He better not have been.

A fellow looked up ahead, seeming to scout the grounds with such fevor that he grew admired. A pair of testicles hung adamantly beneath an obsidian striped banner baked in prime albaster. Dapper and clean. Male. He relaxed, hoping this would be a potential hunting ally, or even a guide to inform him wherever the hell he might have wandered. 

"Hail," he greeted and alerted the seeking male out, less honey and silk in his voice than had he been trying to swoon a woman. "Up for a hunt?" it was short and sweet, as he hoped to waste neither of their time. The male seemed young, limber and not necessarily small, but not built with the obvious bulk that came with a lifetime of fighting for you life. Too many males he had seen, his brothers, included, were seemingly just large for no reason other than genetics. Yet if that was what survived and thrived, who was he to question Darwin's law?

"Or do you know where we might stand?" a better question for someoone not up for seeking out a meal. Options atleast were offered. Ceruleans scanned the male, clear blue's holding some sort of reserve in their watery depths. He certainly hoped this male was not hostile- he was not built for the wars his brothers sought to win, and most often did.