I Walk Alone...

This was absolutely ridiculous. He shouldn't be fighting outside of his packlands with some random stranger for absolutely no reason. The king would not approve of that. He was on a probation period where he was trying to prove to Gerhardt that he was worthy of holding the position that his now deceased brother Octavian used to hold. Octavian. His brother. The brother he no longer had. Anger began to well up inside the grey brute, adrenaline beginning to course through his frame, the organ inside his chest speeding up. This brute was looking for a fight without provocation. At another point in time, he might have turned it down, been the bigger person, but right this moment, he saw it as the perfect outlet for all his pent up emotions. He needed to let them out and what a better way than in a fight.


Golden gaze watched the tri-colored brute as he began to near. Pontifex kept up the constant pacing, muscles gliding smoothly beneath his pelt as he maintained the distance between himself and his adversary, inky lips pulling back into a snarl, audits pinning themselves back against his crown, chin dipping towards his neck in protection for his neck, shoulders rolling to add a scrunching of the nape as added protection. If this fool wanted to fight, then by all damned he was going to get a fight. The esquire was no fool, allowing the second man to make the first move in order to better his chances for a proper reaction. He didn't have to wait long, for the attacker stopped, leaping towards his left shoulder, talons raking shallow scratches from the bottom of his neck to the curve of his shoulder. Snarling, Pontifex threw himself up on his haunches, muscles bunching together in response. Forelimbs were thrown up to come down on the knight's face, jaws agape as, ready to snap down on the first piece of flesh they could find.



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