Blackfoot Forest A Beacon in the Night

Setting: 
1:00 am, clear night sky, around 40 degrees.

After figuring out that he’s definitely not where he’s supposed to be, the mountainous man finds himself wondering. His attempt to find anyone or anything to squeeze information out of bares no fruit and he finds his luck shriveling up and dying. He shakes his head, how could he not have run into anyone? It’s one question, among others, that he still can’t seem to settle on.

On another note, his migraines are killing him and he’s sure the devil himself bestowed upon him the mark that lie across his right cheek. It’s been hurting for days now. He briefly entertains the idea of a potential brain hemorrhage, but then again, he doesn’t really want to think about that. Merely he’ll deal with whatever consequences there are to come.

Then, all of a sudden–crack–a stick creaks in the near distance. His shortened ears swivel to determine just where it came from. Swoosh–again, there it is again. 

His spine tingles and the hair along it bristles, he spins around only to come face to face with a cougar. The giant cat an uncomfortable ten feet away, legs tucked in a crouch, and those glowing, canary eyes set on him like a statue. It seems to freeze in its tracks as he sets his unmatched eyes upon its conniving form. He doesn’t tremble in fear, for Cross knows he could rip the thing in two. Confident in his ability to tangle with the big cat, he dares to let the corners of his mouth tilt up in a righteous smirk. 

Then his teeth bare and his lips part to let loose a rippling growl. Widening his stance he steps forward and the cat jumps in place, surprised by this encounter no doubt. He comes at the animal quickly, hardly dodging deadly paws that swipe at his face and chest, it frighteningly backs up and scrunches its body down low. With one final warning, Cross lunges towards it, jaws snapping and going in for a bite, the white paws of the cougar connect with his chest. No blood is born of the brief connection, though it was more in an attempt to push the wolf back.

Surely with powerful jaws snapping in its face, the big cat (smaller than him in size) spits and hisses, baring elongated fangs as it’s back turns towards the white wolf. The male only chases it for a few meters before coming to a slow trot and eventually halting. 

Successfully having chased the cat away he lets out a quiet chuff with a smile on his lips. “Now that’s a pussy.” He mumbles softly to no one in particular as he shakes himself off. Allowing his eyes to gaze into the pitch black that reins over the forest at night.

Just a one-post cameo from me. :)

Artax awoke to what he could only describe as "the sound of two wild goats going at it." He had been close enough to hear them, but at least far away enough to remain out of whatever scuffle they were having. When the noise finally died down, the quick pitter-patter of feet slid past him in the night as well. Sniffing the air, he realized it was not a goat at all, but a cougar.

No way José! Artax whisper-shouted aloud, scrambling off anywhere else but here. He wanted no part of cougars or whatever it had been fighting.