Fairspell Meadow Come to me now and lay your hands over me

His lips slid upward in a smirk. Dragomir dared not turn his head to see whether he was being followed, but kept his gaze straight ahead and his ears planed casually to the sides. Even the tip of his tail bounced comfortably behind him, devoid of the tension that being watched should have lent it. He was as cocksure as they came, or at least he conveyed as much.

He was flirting with the flame, but he found the occasional taste of danger had become sweet in his time away. He got that from his father, he supposed. He carried on a short distance at the same even pace, ever alert for the thud of paws behind him, before stopping and going through the motions of inspecting a plain, ordinary bush. Again, his ears flicked toward his rear, where he thought his pursuer might be lurking. If they pursued at all. Almost mockingly, he gave a wide sweep of his tail before issuing a hugely exaggerated yawn.

Part of him knew he was being stupid. What if whoever watched him was stronger than he? Only one way to find out, and it had been much too long since something exciting happened.