Redtail Rise the fall of rome

red dusk scents what the man names before the words finish.
bull. old. heavy. watching. spikes restless at the edge.
his ears tip east and his tail lowers from its high flag, easing into something more measured. he takes a step and angles his body slightly, drawing a short arc with his nose along the ground, then flicks his head toward the fringes rather than the center.
spike.
he lifts his muzzle once, slow, and releases a quiet breath through his nose. not refusal. not challenge.
a better cut. less risk.
his pale eyes return to the male, waiting to see if he understands.