Honeyed Pasture night of the hunter

No worries! He likes ‘em sassy. ;)

His eyes flick to her tail, then back to those auburn hues peering up to him before looking off into the direction the coyotes fled. His eyes appreciate the femininity of her figure and angles as she slopes her back into the downward dog position, though his smirk grows wider at her words. The promise of a hunt. Just as she flicks a pink tongue out to lick her chops, he finds himself following the motion. 

Then a sudden order comes from her lips. Not too harsh per say, yet he is used to giving the orders, not taking them. He deems her lucky in this instance. For he is the type of male to give women a bit more stretch when it comes to aggravating him. Rather her strong words and leader esc. qualities seem to give him more respect for her and perhaps a little of something else. 

So he stands there, mildly surprised by her words. He quickly recovers and he raises a brow teasingly. “Yes, ma’am.” He drawls smoothly, teasingly. A curt nod follows the words just after. 

He starts with grabbing the coyote, easily picking it up my it’s scruff and dragging it to the smaller bunch of trees a good forty feet away. 

He watches the female begins to sprint off after them and gazes to the leftover bison and shrugs. He’s not carrying that into the forest. He hid the coyotes and that is good enough. So he runs after her. It only takes a little while for him to catch up, his massive form coming to run beside her. Eyes intense and on their target just off in the distance.