Tyrian was sniffing along the border in search of Aryn. The plan had been for her to get her affairs in order and then report back to him for lessons so he assumed any day now she'd turn up on the border with a bag of nausea medicine and maybe another dead thing under her arm for good measure. So far nothing. He was beginning to wonder if he needed to go looking for her or if he should even bother. If she chose to back out that wasn't his problem. Nothing had exchanged paws so it wasn't like he would be out anything. Actually, technically, he still came out ahead as he'd taken the rabbit she'd brought him that day. By following that logic he had already profited so it mattered even less if she showed up.

But, he mused as he paused to eye a wide creek, where was the fun in that? Tyrian was looking forward to the challenge. It was easy to get lulled into complacency by routine. Having her around to disrupt things might be good for him. Or something.

He leaped over the creek and continued on his way. This stretch of the border was pretty lifeless and boring. For some reason the bison didn't frequent it as much as the rest of the land. As far as he could tell it was all the same. The grass grew just as thickly and the trees offered just as much shade. And yet the muddy places were noticeably less pocked by hooves and the creek banks were well formed and clearly not mangled by big heavy beasts. The lack of traffic by the bison didn't bother him any. No, it just made this stretch a better place for the sheep.

Aryn had almost made it to the border of Fireside. Almost. She'd done as he asked, gathered some things, warned her family that she'd be gone a few days, and headed confidently in the direction of her new instructor. The confident steps however did not last at all as long as she expected them to, and by the time the Knolls were in sight Aryn found herself prone under a nearby bush. The entire situation was ridiculous, wasn't it? It was ridiculous. She didn't know how long she was laying there, frozen with feelings of inadequacy when the familiar scent of the Fireside King reached her and she realized that this was not going to look good for her. Nope, no way. One more look at the insecure mess that was 'Aryn the unmedicated: returns' and he'd be kicking her ass back to Lirim before she could blink. She buried her head in her paws, her first instinct to be a very desperate 'if i can't see him he can't see me' before her brains caught up with her and she let out a very soft and unladylike curse. Tyrian was coming closer to the bush under which she'd hid, and she knew the only way she was getting out of this with her dignity was to play the part of novice huntress and act as if this was the plan the whole damn time. As soon as he was looking a different way, Aryn slipped from the foliage and booked it downwind. Her chest heaved, her paws shook (and frankly she was looking much closer to startled deer then she ever could look like a capable huntress) but damnit she was committed. Aryn gave herself a moment to size up her 'prey' and then to remember how terrifying he was capable of being when he wanted to, and then shut her eyes and pounced. "Speech" "Thinking" "You."

Tyrian was quickly getting lost in thought as he roamed the barren stretch. With nothing to look at it was an easy thing to do. Except for that one crazy, wild-ass woman Fireside had never really had a problem with trespassers so it wasn't like he had a history of breaches to keep him focused. The one outsider he was expecting didn't really strike him as the leap-from-the-bushes type so why would he even take that into consideration? Nah, now was the perfect time to think about the days ahead and the changes he wanted to enact.

He paused to roll a crick out of his neck and then glanced deeper into the territory as the distant sound of bleating reached his ears. Tyrian had just enough time to start considering what the sound meant when he was blindsided by a streak of grey. There was no time for tensing and snapping, no chance to put together a solid defense. Instead all he managed was a startled, "Shit fuck-" while side-stepping and then a wild, heavy handed swat at the plush grey blob enveloping his neck and blocking his view. After that brief second of startle his training kicked in and Tyrian snarled, ready to tear into his attacker. Then it finally clicked.

"Aryn?" Tyrian recoiled, his pride momentarily tarnished, and then he quickly went into salvage mode. His expression smoothed and he nodded to himself before casting a sly look her way as though he hadn't nearly pissed himself. "Not bad." He swatted at her legs in the hopes of flipping her to the ground. "Might want to save the pouncing for something's that not gonna fight back, though. Unless," he dropped into a crouch, his eyes on her and his intent to pounce quite clear. "You want a fight lesson as well."

The last thing Aryn had expected was for her sneak attack to work, and although she caught his skilled paw to the head as he instinctively swatted away his attacker - and then another to the legs that brought her to the ground - the Valentine lady was overcome with laughter the entire way down. "I got you!" She insisted with a wide smile, unphased by his tough-guy act. Tyrian definitely could be scary, though the fact that she'd frightened him enough to pull panicked profanity from his mouth did wonders to make him just slightly less intimidating. While the laughter eventually faded, her very proud grin did not and she aimed it at him as he threatened to pounce. Men acting big and tough after getting a fright? Aryn had brothers, she knew that game and Tyrian while different then the gentleman with which she was raised was still a man in the end. "Oh come on, you gotta give me this one." She teased him. "You can nurse your wounded pride and go back to big-bad King when we're done hunting." "Speech" "Thinking" "You."

Tyrian would have been quite content to carry on with their lesson had Aryn not called him out. He simply couldn't let that go. Now for his pride's sake he had to commit to making it right. If they were pups he would have been compelled to drag her to the river and throw her in or make her eat mud...or something. But since they were adults he'd settle for chasing her down and wrestling her to the ground. "O-h ho, no, my dear." He brought a paw to his chest in chagrin and then pointed it at her accusingly. "If you'd let me I'd have just taken the loss, but now you've made it personal and I just," he wrinkled his nose in exaggerated disgust, "I just can't accept that, you know?" He dropped into another crouch, making it clear this was her last chance to run if that's how this going to go down. In truth Tyrian hoped she ran. That would be nice and easy. If she didn't he'd have to get creative in fixing the knock to his pride, which sounded like a lot of work to pull of just right, but he was committed now and he'd do what he had to. Aryn needed to pay in some small way before they could get to the hunting lesson.