Ravensblood Forest only a fool would make martyrs from heathens

Donovan lazes around the mouth of a cave in the eastern set of mountains. Looking more like a large cat lying comfortably on his side with his hind legs stretched out next to him and his from arms rest on his elbows. He’s been viciously licking at his left paw of the treacherous red sap that plagues just about all parts of this forest. The shit never comes off he concludes. He almost considers giving up when a howl sounds through the air and into his ears. It sounds very close and the males thick ears point forward curiously and he freezes. Tongue still flat against his paw, the only difference in his position the golden hues that scan the area in front of him. 

Slipping the black appendage back into his mouth, he stands. Instantly he begins heading towards the howl in a brisk trot. Passing around boulders and migrating through the forest of towering trees, he seems to finally hit his mark. About ten meters out he sees the form of his most recent acquaintance — Renard. The other fascinating Akita-wolf mix with an odd yet stunning coat.

Urging himself forward, heavy paws thump against the ground and crunch the debris of the forest beneath them. He doesn’t try to be quiet and upon round a rather large tree trunk, revealing himself to the other, he chuckles.

“Well, well, well.” He hums, shimmering eyes meet their own. “Look who actually kept their word. I’m impressed.” Donovan can’t help but sneak in the teasing lilt into his voice. “Come to spar then?” He questions with a tilt of his head and a challenging smirk on his handsome face.