Dove stepped forward, paws sinking into supple, fresh soil. The mangroves surrounding were old enough that they were meters high, crafting a canopy that filtered the sunlight as it laid into the land with unforgiving heat. The climate was almost tropical, and had he not encountered it before, the heat would have been stifling as his fur absorbed not only the heat but the humidity as well. He padded forward, a silent silhouette among the shadows as he studied the new surroundings that would likely become his home. It'd been a long journey, though, and he still didn't feel as though far was far enough. There was some niggling feeling that had wormed its way into his heart, and he felt the urge, the drive to continue until he'd reached the end. The end of what, he couldn't say; perhaps, the edge of the world would suffice.

He shook himself, his fur stirred by a light wind that swept through the mangroves, and they shook as though it were a cold one rather than the lush warmth that caused him to pant lightly. New land, new rules, he thought to himself. Be that as it may, new land also meant new threats. And as he'd been here for approximately -- he glanced at what was visible of the sky through the canopy -- a few hours, at best, he should likely pay better attention to his surroundings rather than such introspection.

He studied the forest around him. Even with his gargantuan height, the mangroves still towered above him, their roots massive in their growth. There were areas, small as they were, beneath them that could shelter smaller animals than himself. There was simple foliage and herbs among them, if he were seeing correctly. He glanced behind him, to the flatlands he'd entered the massive forest from. He'd spotted a few veritable areas where he might successfully dry herbs, as his mother's healer had taught him, but he'd have to test to be sure the land and climate were truly dry enough for it.

He shifted paws as hunger made itself known with a low but audible rumble in his belly, and it occurred to him that he'd forgone hunting, or doing so rarely, in his drive to put good distance between himself and his birthplace pushed him further and further from his mother's deathbed. Lavender eyes scanned the clearing for a source that might satisfy the current need.

---

Time/Place: Midday; Lover's Mangrove, near the edge of the forest closest to the water.
Notes: Observing the newly found area, introspection, deciding he's hungry and ready for a hunt.

It was a brilliant day, that tipped from lovely to overbearing as the heat hammered down upon the world. It almost made him regret his choice to pace through the territories near his pack. He kept a habit of exploring the uninhabited lands that ranged further afield then his own. He kept himself apprised of the scents of predators, loners, and travelling pack wolves that occasionally passed through. He wasn’t a wolf that liked to be caught unawares.

He ducked under the large sweeping canopy of the mangroves, the soil damp and cool beneath his toes. He could not hear the sound of Bast stalking the trees to his right, but he knew the snow leopard was out there. He had trained her well to trail him, silent, and unseen support. Marshal he caught the occasional glimpse of as the Vulture, larger than most companions, wheeled through the sky above.

He crossed the trail a rogue had left in the earth, walking over it, before circling back and giving it another sniff. Fresh, fresher than most scents he passed over here. Likely the wolf had been here recently, and was likely still in the area. Considering how often his children scampered over his borders to explore, he decided to investigate. He approached cautiously, slowing his steps and stalking silently over the roots of the ancient trees, until at last he spotted the black, star-brushed wolf just as the strangers stomach growled, the sound just barely audible to his perked ears as the giant Warlord stepped into view.

"Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

He stood there, silent in his contemplation. All the prey had either scampered off to hide away or fled the area completely. He was lowering his snout to begin his hunt when
a whisper of sound caught his ear. Both audits pricked forward to better catch the sound as he brought his head back up and turned to face the wolf who'd found him. The wolf's pelt was as dark as his own, but there were . . . notable differences. Dove took in the wolf's markings and simply blinked when his own lavender eyes spotted tucks peeking from beneath their lips. Dove tilted his head, the spot between his eyes puckering as a frown graced his own dark visage. He'd never seen such wild markings, let alone such large teeth.

The wolf would have been banished as a monster in the kingdom.

He studiously ignored that thought before banishing it with violent abandon. They have no bearing here. And they never would; he would make sure of it.

"Hello," he greeted, eyes meeting the other wolf's briefly before slinking back to the nature surrounding. He jerked them back to the other's gaze, the conditioning of avoiding the gaze of those ranked above him taking hold for but a moment. Never again, he'd promised himself, and he had to remember to hold himself to that. New land, new rules. A land in which no one determined his worth but Dove himself.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

---

Time/Place: Midday; Lover's Mangrove, near the edge of the forest closest to the water.
Notes: Dove turned to see Sirius after he revealed himself. He is in the middle of a possibly noticeable conflict between old habits amidst attempting to create new ones.

He caught eyes with the stranger, ice met lilac fire, before the stranger took in the rest of him. From his large form, to slashes of white across his face, and fangs that sipped far from his maw. The lander eyed wolfs face folded into a frow , and the Warlords into a grin. Didnt like what he saw? If he wanted to take offense, the warrior was more then happy to accommodate him with a fight. Testing his mettle to strangers was one of his favourite pastimes.

It would be a shame, however, to mar that star glossed coat. Asla who loved the stars, might be interested in meeting a wolf such as this.

The wolf met his eyes again, and the pulled his gaze away, lasting only a moment, before lifting them again. Sirius was intrigued at the strange nature of this man. Was he intimidated, offended? Or some other array of emotion. "Hello." The Warlord echoed back, stifling his smile a little so not to cause further alarm. "What brings you so close to my neck of the woods?" It was a stretch of the truth, his Armada was more then one land over.

D O V E W H I T E

The other man's thoughts unbeknownst to him, Dove shifted his paws, ignoring the yawning hunger in his belly that only seemed to expand once he'd noted it. His tail swayed behind him, brushing the tips of the unpicked grass beneath him. The grin that spread across the man's maw was enough to alarm Dove, although he didn't let it show. Nothing good ever came when his brother's grinned in such a way, their almost daily need to prove him lesser like a monster in its own right. He wondered, briefly, who they'd gotten such a beast from -- his father, who pushed all of his children to prove their worth, or was it something they'd been born with?

Deep in thought as he awaited the wolf's response, he pawed lightly at the soil until the smell of it, freshly churned, flowed into his nose. It smelled fertile, and as he took note of this and how it would aid in the herbs he preferred, the wolf spoke. Dove's twilight visage fell into a frown again. "Are these lands not unclaimed?" he asked, loud enough that the words would reach him. How unfortunate, he thought. "I hadn't scented a marker belying a claim," he said aloud. He kept his voice light, so as to keep any inflection in it that could be mistaken as a challenge; but if there was another way the creatures of this land claimed a territory as their own, this would be pertinent information to have.

Fully mistaking the man's words as an outright claim to the land, Dove gave him a shallow bow of his dome. "I do apologize if I've overstepped. I was unaware this home belonged to another at this time."

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

---

Time/Place: Midday; Lover's Mangrove, near the edge of the forest, closest to the water.
Notes: Dove has mistaken Sirius' words as a claim to Lover's Mangrove.

He snorted, amused, at the mans subserviant nature. The bow and the apology were honeyed, and he wondered if he saw worry in this dark mans gaze. Before Zee, he would have taken it as an invitation to claim this man as his own. To best him into the earth, and declare Sirius his master. Zee, sweet Wife of his, did not like it when he treated wolves like play things. He tried not to hurt her, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself...

He didnt have to hurt the wolf, but the stranger didnt have to know that. He stalked a little closer, and caught the eyes of his leopard companion in the foliage across from his prey. She watched him wearily, ready to have his back, but disappointed in him. Marshal came in closer as well. There was no pity in the dark gaze of his vulture, as he swooped downwards through the branches and landed heavily on the Warlords back. Seer grunted, but otherwise did not acknowledge the dark plumed scavenger.

He stalked just a little closer.

"And what would you do, prey tell me, if I told you this land was mine and I did not suffer an intruder upon it?" He asked, voice a low, rumbling growl. Feline like claws digging into the earth as he eyed the poor, hapless stranger, who acted like prey.

D O V E W H I T E

The other seemed to consider something as Dove waited for him to speak. The wind coiled through the trees, the white noise to his thoughts. West, South, or North? he considered as he contemplated where to go next. He opened his mouth, perhaps to question what the closest unclaimed territory was, when he noticed the gleam in the other wolf's eyes as he stalked forward, briefly paying attention to something -- someone? -- off to the side of him.

Dove halted the swaying of his tail as his jaws snapped shut, watching as the man stalked forward. A bird of some sort landed upon his back, like an omen with sickness and death on its coattails, and the wolf spoke. His heart skipped uneasily, but Dove met his icy gaze squarely, convinced now, that the grin previous had been more than a reminder of his older brothers. One and the same, it seems, he decided, concluding that whatever beast plagued his brothers and machinated their plots also hung on the shoulders of the man before him. His brow sank low in consternation, but he stood his ground, refusing to back away as he was confronted with what he firmly believed to be an attitude not dissimilar to his siblings.

Never again, he'd decided, clearly stiff and uncomfortable as the man prowled closer. "I suppose," he began, "that would depend on what you would allow." Bitterness crept onto his tongue. To be in the control of another was the be weak, and though he was quiet and unambitious, Dove was not weak, and he was not timid. To have made a misstep so early in his journey chaffed in a way he couldn't describe.

He could turn to leave, but if the man or whomever or whatever he'd glanced at would give chase, then that would be pointless, he surmised. His eyes fell again to the strange creature that perched upon his back. Not to mention that wings travel faster than paws. If he were actually intent on keeping Dove here rather than chasing him out, Dove supposed there was nothing he could do at this very moment. That didn't, however, keep his body from tensing, imperceptibly. His ears were pricked forward, all thoughts of the new land he'd entered gone as he attempted to decide what would happen here.

His gaze met the man's, frown still in place, nearly defiantly so. Protecting himself was not an uncommon expectation to Dove on this lone journey. Though, what he knew of battle was gleaned from the hefty defeats he'd suffered from his brothers as his father never thought him enough of a proper representative to send him to the front lines of war or to allow him to be trained.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

---

Time/Place: Midday; Lover's Mangrove, near the edge of the forest closest to the water.
Notes: Dove has noticed that there may be someone or something off to the side, as that is where Sirius glanced. He's noticed Sirius' other companion as he landed on his back. Dove is still under the impression that Lover's Mangrove is a claimed territory and responded with this belief in mind.

The man did not bow under pressure, as Sirius carefully, cruelly, applied it to the man. Instead, he seemed to square up, and met Sirius eye to eye. He put the ball in Warlords court, but he showed no sign of submissiveness, and he did not reak of fear, through he was clearly unhappy. The unhappiness without whimpering was did it. Sirius sighed, his fun ruined, but his respect gained. "Ah, well. You'd be in luck, actually" he admitted, his smile a little more friendly now. He wasnt prey, and nor did he act like a threat. It put him somewhere in a middle ground that didnt threaten or tempt the Alpha wolf.

"My terratory touches the borders of the land one more over" he explained, his stance relaxing a touch. Bast came out of hiding then, now that the man was not a threat or a toy. Her expression was definitely disapproving whenever she looked to Sirius, but if the stranger would catch her eye she would offer him a smile and a slight wag of her tail. She was definitely the friendliest of the three. "I'm Sirius, this is Bast and Marshal" he said, nodding his head at each in turn.

D O V E W H I T E

It was moments before there was a change, and Dove, utterly convinced that this would somehow end in bloodshed, grew only more tense as he waited. And then, between one breath and the next, one blink and the following, the facade simply . . . vanished. He blinked then, as the man sighed and spoke. "I--" He came up short, tension flowing out of body quickly and suddenly as he watched a feline prowl from the undergrowth and offer him a smile. His frown deepened; not one of consternation this time but one of confusion. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the man, deciding whether or not to believe his words. It was clear that he liked to play games.

"I am . . . Dove," he returned, hesitation and confusion in his voice. It was clear that he was unsure, and his eyes strayed to Sirius' dark paws as he considered not only their interaction thus far but his next words. "If these lands are not yours, why would you feign a claim that is clearly absent?" he asked finally. He head tilted as he danced apprehensively on midnight paws, the hunger in his gut coming back full force with the tension that previously suppressed it gone. A mind game, perhaps? He understood mind games and the power they could hold. What he did not understand is why a stranger felt the need to wage them.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

---

Time/Place: Midday; Lover's Mangrove, near the edge of the forest closest to the water.
Notes: Dove is confused.

"Ah," he said, amusement in his tone, still friendly, the threatening air faded away like sun light breaking through shadows. "I only asked you what you would do" he clarified. He had never actually made a claim, through the implication and threat had been there. "Dove" he murmured, repeating the mans name. He found amusement there, but did not in any way show it. Dove was not the first bird wolf he had found in the woods. Of course the other, named 'Bird'he had stolen away to Armada terratory. He eyed this one specutively. Because, ahh, what if?


"It always pays to know what a stranger might do if they did stumble across your home, which lies not far from here" and he had learned that this Dove was neither a coward, nor a threat. Remembering the rumbling of the mans stomach, he would continue. "Would like some company on a hunt, to make up for giving you a fright?" Even if frightening him had been rather fun. He was trying not to be that wolf anymore. His Zee, his sweet beloved Zee, how she would scold him so. He missed her anger, her teeth, her fury. The couple had been comfortable and compliant for a while. Maybe he should ruffle her feathers, just to see if she could still take him in a fight. If she remembered the training he had given her.

D O V E W H I T E

Dove watched and listened, clear discomfort in his stance. His ears swiveled, pinning to his dome for but a moment before perking again. His apprehension was clear at the quick change of subjects, the sudden shift in the temperature of the interaction. The predator, he could deal with as it was familiar in a way that he was loath to admit; he knew what to expect with that particular brand. A friendly face with words not unkind, however . . . was unfamiliar and therefore nearly unwelcome. Were he not curious about what it might be like to be looked upon as an equal rather than scraps, that is.

Still, he took a hesitant step back, uncomfortable with the near immediate reversal of their scene as he attempted to regain some semblance of his own control back. He realized that his reactions may have seemed near obtuse -- forward and unmoving when challenged, yet hesitant and unsure when welcomed. Yet, he knew he'd have to wade through years of mental trauma to deal with that, and that was not a journey for the present. He was aware of the differences within him and what had caused them, yet he was uncertain how exactly he'd go about dealing with it.

So when the man offered a welcome diversion, Dove nodded a fraction, and his stomach agreed in kind. "Perhaps," he said, quietly and almost to himself as he gazed at the ground a bit to the man's side, "a distraction is what is needed." He picked up a paw to shuffle again, but placed it firmly on the ground when he noticed. It was his tell, his mother once told him, that quick shuffle that seemed as though Dove were attempting to resettle the weight on his shoulders. He said nothing and kept himself drawn to his full height, though one could see the anxiety in his gaze if they knew to look for it. With near visible effort, he brought his gaze to rest heavily upon the man. "Sirius, Bast, Marshal -- may we have a fruitful hunt."

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

---

Time/Place: Midday; Lover's Mangrove, near the edge of the forest closest to the water,
Notes: Dove is concerned.

He took a step back, bringing him closer to the Snow Leopard that had come out of hiding behind him. Sirius raised a brow but said nothing. The man barely flinched when threatened, but now he seemed intimidated? Perhaps he didn’t trust the Warlord and thought this all an elaborate trap. Sirius tried not to consider him prey again, even if he did rise up the teenist bit as the man backed away. As through if he turned tail and ran, Sirius would not be capable of stopping himself from pursuing. A part of him hoped the man ran… it had been so long since he had enjoyed such a run. The wolf stared at the ground, shuffled a paw, and looked a little lost and out of place. He thought of the wolves Zee had brought home. Lost, broken. She liked broken things, liked to help them, fix them, look after them. Sirius had to admit a part of him liked it too, in a possessive sort of way. He would defend what was his, and any strays brought home by his Wife belonged to him. Sirius sighed softly, a sound of defeat, unhappy defeat at that. “Who hurt you?” Sirius asked softly, a subtle bite entering his tone as Bast moved forward, gently and unthreatening, bringing herself into the circle so she could be with them to start the hunt. Marshal took off into the air with a piercing cry, and took off, scouting ahead for prey. "Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

Of everything the wolf who seemed to be the only one enjoying this game would say, Dove anticipated . . . not what was said. Memories swirled in his vision, blocking the sun as effectively as the canopy above them. Non-existent blood stained the fresh soil around them and a harsher sun than the one currently embellishing the sky beamed down upon his fur. The scar on his left shoulder burned fiercely, as though it were freshly wrought rather than completely healed, and he unconsciously shifted his weight to his right side.

In his vision, his brother's snow white muzzle gleamed with his blood, the interloper that Dove had been guiding back to their borders dead at his paws. It was only a moment, there and gone between one breath and the next, but a shiver rode his spine as Sirius came back into view. "Someone leagues away from here," Dove said in a haunted voice, answering with more truth than he'd intended. Quickly, he spun away from Sirius, nose lowering to the ground as he sought out a scent to track, willing an interference of any sort to disrupt this conversation.

Truthfully, he didn't suppose the trauma he'd gathered would be so vicious in its quest for him, had it only been once or twice. But the same blood spilled and more scars garnered, on a near day-to-day basis, for four years? His tail ached to tuck, but it was sheer stubbornness and ornery will that would not let it. Had he been alone, he would have scoffed at himself; left distrustful and dubious at the first sign of kindness but ready to do battle at the first hint of wickedness. What a prince, he thought bitterly.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

The snow leopard, who stood 6” shorter than Dove, would come closer yet. Better at showing physical comfort then the Warlord - at least outside of his immediate family. It was clear Dove was experiencing something, shifting his paws, pain flashing in his eyes. Sirius had reminded him of something he perhaps would rather forget. Bast was there after a moment, slinking up to him, and rubbing her thick coat against his side, tail flicking gently against his legs, and blue eyes gazing up at the black coated, wounded wolf. It was clear she did it to offer comfort, and there was gentleness in her eyes that Sirius could never achieve. “Hmm.” Sirius said, letting it drop for a moment as he took up the pace, moving to walk beside the other wolf. His nose also began to scent the earth, and Bast moved further away, looking for trails further afield. As the two wolves sought something to kill, silence would find them, as neither spoke. Sirius let that silence hang for a time, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, but heavy, and fierce. “If you were mine, no one would ever hurt you. Any who sought to find you would die at my borders.” There was a possessive, protectiveness in his tone. The defensiveness of an Alpha who would fight always for what was his. "Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

It was startling and brief, the contact from the smaller feline. Jarring enough to cause Dove to freeze where he stood, his muscles locking tightly from the unbidden contact, but fleeting enough that he didn't have time to consider it as she paced quietly away, on a hunt of her own. Dove watched her go with a slow blink, aiming to comprehend what she'd attempted to give as his brain mulled over the scene again. Comfort, perhaps, he decided, moving his limbs mechanically. He moved through the motions of the hunt, his hindbrain cataloging the scents he found as he replayed the interaction again, sure that he'd seen amenity in her cerulean eyes. Even after only minutes of this discordant interaction, he was numb to it all, as he usually was where his family and the marks they'd left were concerned.

He recalled, with perfect clarity, the ghost he'd been in that place he'd refused to call hom--Sirius' words registered, and Dove stood suddenly at his full, towering height, the hunt nearly forgotten. His breath came deeply for a moment as he attempted to calm himself. "The pack," he said sourly, stiffly, "that I had before was exceedingly unkind." While the dark man beside him with a coat similar to his own seemed to find amusement in shadowy jest, he didn't seem particularly unintelligent. Dove was certain that he would perceive the understatement for what it was. "I am in no hurry to find a new collar for my throat." As though it sensed the true meaning behind the words, his scarred shoulder twitched, sending a rippling shudder down his spine that Dove shook away fiercely.

He would face this on his own and blaze a new trail, as he'd intended when he left the kingdom. Kindness had been used to lull him into a false sense of security more than once, and while he logically understood that it was unlikely Sirius was doing the same, the mental scars left behind because of it refused to heal as well as the physical ones had. He paced alongside Sirius arthritcally, unwilling to pretend that the hunt took precedence any longer, although his belly still protested.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

Sirius Warlord Sirius made a noncommittal grunt in response to the man's word. Not certain what he thought of it. It made sense, if the man was mistreated, to not wish himself in such a situation again. Still, it was hard to let the man go. He wanted to take him, and force protection down his throat. Surely he would blossom once more in the Armada. Once he met Zee, his unusually kind Wife. Or his children, his inquisitive Indigo, and his sweetly playful Asla. Even Bird, and Tamsyn, Acciona and Odette. The lost little lambs he and his wife had inevitably collected, and now protected. Dove would eventually come to understand… but he looked to the scarred wolf, whose neck twitched in a shudder of horror. Maybe he would, one day, but if Sirius took him it would be a long time before there could be forgiveness, a long time that might last forever. “Well.” Sirius said softly. “Perhaps if you do take up residence in these woods, you could seek out my pack for asylum, should the past find you.” It might be more then Dove could accept, but it was certainly less then Sirius wanted to offer. He wanted to whisper to the man to join his pack, or at least reside in the territory. He wanted to offer more, do more, some part of him already considering Dove ‘his’ and not liking the idea of leaving him to the dangers of the cold world beyond the Armada. But at least this promise of protection was something, and he could only hope Dove remembered it, remembered to call to him, if he needed aid. The Warlord would welcome the challenge, the chance to rip apart a wolf that threatened what was his. And, if Dove did stick around, perhaps Sirius could eventually convince him to join them. He let it slide for the moment, giving Dove a chance to think over his words, as he broke apart a little, to cover more ground in search of prey. Marshal, who could cover a wider area with sight, but find nothing with scent, would find something first. He returned them, letting out a soft call, to tell them to follow. Sirius motioned to the smaller wolf, indicating they should follow the lead of the winged creature. "Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

The grunt that came was neither an agreement nor a contradiction to what he'd said, and there was a niggling that wanted to push for a solid answer from Sirius because his response told Dove more about the man than had probably been intended. The sound, to Dove at least, meant that he'd either be back or that Sirius was still undecided about where exactly Dove stood. He shut the words down on his lips, forcing himself to be content that Sirius was seemingly content to let the issue rest for now. At his next words, though, Dove stiffly replied, "The moment that happens, you will be the first to know." Although Sirius might take the words at face value, Dove knew what they truly meant.

He'd promised himself, quietly enough that perhaps even the gods were unaware, that the next time he came upon any of his family, the rivers, the land, and the sun itself would run red, and Sirius, being the closest to Dove's location, just might be the first to notice. It was a promise to mollify the fear and nightmares that sometimes took him in their unforgiving grip; a promise to avenge a smaller, less able version of himself. A rage that had built under the years of harsh treatment that he hadn't been aware of until he'd been free of it.

Never again, echoed in his mind as he lowered his head to the ground, noting that Sirius had stepped away and letting the distance alleviate enough of his tension that he could finally focus on the hunt. The winged creature's call caught his attention and he followed after Sirius, well and truly focused finally. With a purpose to finally fixate on, Dove lengthened his strides to keep up.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

Sirius flicked his gaze to the man, and then away again. His words weren’t exactly a promise to call, or seek protection in the Armada, but they were something. The Warlord was wise enough to recognise that was all he would get. He silently promised to add this area to his, Bast’s, Marshal’s...and maybe even Resin and a few other warriors, patrol routes. So long as he and his wolves kept an eye on the area, Dove was likely to be safe. If just because their lingering scent would drive others off, as well as making it more likely that help would be in the area. The two of them followed Marshal as the bird led them, before the avian picked up speed, and wheeled a circle in the sky, telling Sirius through this signal, that they were close and where they were. By this point, he had the scent of deer in his nose, and didn’t need the vulture’s eyes to tell him, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He followed the trail into the undergrowth, until they could see them, nodding to Dove to fan out. “Count to ten, and then go for that elder doe near the outskirts, try to grab a leg if you can, i’ll be coming at her from the other side” he instructed. Taking the lead without even thinking about doing so, so accustomed to leading his wolves. "Speech"

D O V E W H I T E

Dove followed along and picked up the fresh scent of a nearby doe at the same time as Sirius. His paws sank into the soil as his pace quickened, hunger driving him. He was sure, however, to be cautious as the other wolf's words filtered into perked ears. He nodded, sinking low to the ground beneath the undergrowth. This, he knew, he was built for. If not for war, his father had sent him out often to hunt for the pack, as his pelt was better built for hunting that the snowy furs of his siblings. He ghosted through the brushwood, silent as a shadow and impending as death. He willed his stomach to keep silent as he closed the distance between him and the doe of their choice.

Quick and unforgiving, he struck, aiming low and sinking his teeth into the doe's right hingleg, angling himself so that he could avoid the vicious, sudden kicks of the left leg as the doe screamed. Hunting used to bother him. It was a necessity as a predator, he knew, but the terror in the moments before the kill is what he found truly distasteful. He sank low, placing his full weight to the ground to keep the struggling animal in place and attempted to mentally will Sirius to strike and do so quickly.

He walks. "He speaks." He thinks.

The seconds Dove gave, were a chance for Sirius to get into position on the other side. He counted them out silently in his head, and then watched as Dove charged from the undergrowth towards their prey. Sirius was moving a moment later, his path slightly further, but it effectively cut the doe from her herd. Not that the poor creature had any chance to escape. Dove’s strike was precice, and he did not miss. Dove managed to hold the creature for the moment it took Sirius to arrive, and it was an easy thing to shove his weight onto the doe’s shoulder, pinning it as he slashed his elongated teeth across its throat, killing it. He let the doe collapse to the earth, bleeding heavily the slashed throat and the mangled leg. The body of the creature was mostly unmarred, and he considered it for a moment. “If you can wait another moment, I would like to harvest the coat” he explained, before the man could take his meal and ruin the main body. "Speech"