puma wuma

To say Raijin had been shocked when his cousin had asked him to go with him late at night on a patrol would be an understatement. Honestly, the dappled man had momentarily looked up to the sky to see if pigs were flying. When he saw nothing, he wondered if Hattori had gotten a screw loose during the raid, but he wasn’t in the business of questioning it much. Instead, he’d gotten to his paws and followed after eagerly, ready for whatever trouble awaited them because, honestly, trouble always seemed to follow them when they were together.

They’d hopped and skipped (at least Raijin had) across the archipelago, taking a shortcut to get to the fern gulley. His auds perked when the overwhelmingly pungent scent of blood and death permeated the air, his golden gaze peering to the side to catch his cousin’s reaction. Of course he’d scented it too and then they were off to investigate, the smell growing stronger and stronger until they were upon it. Well, them and a puma. The cat whirled around, its black ears flattened to its head and its lips pulled back in a hiss. The saber-toothed man’s hackled rose, gaze narrowing into slits as he looked to the Shogun. The nod was all it took for the men to fall into a well-trained rhythm as easily as slipping into sleep. He wasn’t sure what it was about him that he kept finding himself in situations where big cats were present, but he supposed finders were keepers and he was willing to say they’d as good as found the kill.

While Hattori swept to the puma’s side, Raijin went to work distracting it. He snarled and made a show of his saber’s, dipping in and swiping at the animal’s face before slipping just out of reach. He knew his cousin was bigger than him, and with those talons of his he could do far more damage. All Raijin had to do was keep the animal’s sights on himself and try not to get maimed by those needle-like claws.