Ouroboros Spine ᐊ avvik

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the paw steps of the crimson merc are thunderous.

with each long stride that he takes along the tall edges of the spine, red inhales a deeper breath. filling the sacs of his lungs, chest flaring, ribs rising, and then exhaling in momentous effort.

the man is aware of his trespassing on packlands, and yet he does not care. for he is an arrogant bastard, uncaring of anything but what fills his belly at the end of a long day. at least, that is how it has been for so long.

red does not slow until he sees in the distance the form of gray and silver pelt, and is smacked in the nose with an alluring scent. the masculine grumbles in thought, his large paws coming to a lumbering halt, and his tail flags; virile, dominant, he turns purposeful, displaying the brawn that ripples beneath his tattered hide.

do you like, madam? he asks wordlessly.

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