The Weak Fall Prey

The wandering eyes of the strange male roved over his own form a few times. Typical. However, any comment he might have wanted to make was trapped in the thick fog that was still lingering after his terrible nap in the trees. ”Hunting. What does it look like?” he snapped. Then, as if on cue, the thundering of cloven hooves retreated into the trees. The male, who was of equal proportions to himself, growled. ”And there she goes, thanks to you.” he let the words drop with a thick coating of venom. Alabaster tipped auds flattened against his skull, muzzle contorting into a half-snarl. He debated attacking. He wasn't fully awake, but he'd been fights under worse conditions.

"Oh, this is my doing?" the titan snapped in return, rumbling vocals booming suddenly in the otherwise quiet forest. "Are you certain that perhaps the spirits simply do not favour your success, friend?" the quip fell with the ring of sarcasm, elevated around the word friend with no attempt to reign in his temper. Gaze rolled away from the pallid features of the strange male in favour of locking onto the trunk of the tree he'd just skirted around. "Духовите ме проколнуваат, ова е срање." he muttered to himself. One deep breath in, and out. The fog was clearing. His temper didn't loosen its grip on his muscles, tensed and ready to spring.

The cosmic male shook his head, more as a commentary upon his luck than anything else. "I'll let you get back to it, then." he grunted, shaking out his thick ruff as he turned to disappear back into the thick woods.