The wind whipped across the jagged stones Iskandor stood on, his vantage point was a rocky outcrop easily climbed with his feline claws. Bright blue gaze swept over the valley below, a sharpness in his expression that he'd usually not have within the borders of his home. The setting sun made for a pretty sight—hues of orange and indigo painted across the sky in dramatic colors. His mother would like to hear of the sight when he returned home, surely, he thought. His tail swayed, relaxed behind him, tension evident in his powerful young frame.
Lifting his head, Iskandor let loose a deep, challenging howl. A dare, really. He wanted someone to answer it. He stepped back from the edge of the outcrop, waiting to descend once an opponent stepped forth. His anticipation quite nearly buzzed all around him, his ears swiveling to catch the faintest sound of an approach.
