Wapun Meadow et peccatum meum contra me est semper

Snorting like some kind of war-horse whose reigns had been unjustly pulled, Mesa glared at the creature and weighed his options. There was obviously something the beast protected; he'd heard it crying out before. To reach that he'd have to be fast and precise, and he could not accomplish that when pursued.

He was no longer hungry, only irritable. Put-off from his hunt as much by this creature's ugly insinuations. Annoyed that something better had not come along for him to chase.

There had been paths further south, and also towards the mountain, which he had been intrigued by. Had Mesa been a more prideful man perhaps he would have stayed and fought this vile thing to prove some point — his purity, his masculinity, h is power, all in question — but he decided no, it was not a fight worth having.

So he advanced a few steps in an arc, his rumble continuing the whole time, and stalked away before the bear-dog could say much else. He would head towards the mountains rather than the valley; as agitated as he felt now, it was better to leave than to garner a taste of the mutant's blood upon his tongue.