Hoshor Plains Looking for life

Smart. Donovan thinks to himself as he watches the other male back off. Then Savage. comes to mind at the silver males body language — tone of voice. He likes it. He doesn’t have much time to contemplate on the matter as he watches Derg run to him like a moth to a flame. Only this time instead of burning him, he’s saving him.

He spares Derg a look, biding the mild worry behind his usual cocky facade he graces the other with his golden gaze once again. He’s about to confront the stranger when he sees Derg with his eyes on the prize, darting forward to resume his assault on the other male. He doesn’t get far. Donovan won’t let him. With a quick movement, Donovan snatched up the coffee fur of his scruff in deadly jaws. Not gripping hard enough to leave more wounds on the already bleeding man, he lets go to step in front of him. A solid glare meeting Derg’s own. A stern no in his eyes. Donovan wants to investigate.

Turning towards the stranger, Donovan quirks a circular, white brow. “Who're you. Why the hell are you two fighting?” It’s a simple, stern question. He feels like he’s breaking up a fight between two pups, even though it’s quite a bit more serious than that.