The Floodlands Don't get hot and flustered

What an odd trophy- a single bite? Hopefully not to castrate. Such dangerous terms to play upon, but who was to claim he was not going to win? The competition heated up only to simmer as he concocted his own prize. “And should I win, you join us in our travels.” Adrenaline began to spark a skip in his heart, bleating a beat faster, harder, and forging smooth muscles into tense tendons and marble springs. 
He was ready. “No need for permanent reside, should you grow tired of our band,” And with that, he wast off-

well perhaps he wasted a good majority of his head start time, but it was worthwhile in terms of leverage. He did in fact wish to see what this pale male was made of. He seemed quite young, and he supposed with supple meat involved, he would make a great potential for Rosings.
He had not yet beein informed of Rosing’s actually being moved back home, but he was sticking to his ignorant plan, regardless. 

A dashing turn through trees and brambles alike, he tried his utmost not to be targeted by the amethyst eyed counterpart- winter topaz searches for the best trails, scheming things that might seem inconvenient to cross and more of a difficult leap for his pursuit. 
Yet he tried, regardless.