He felt the presence of Larkspur, rather than saw - The predator's eyes were narrowed solely on the presence of the little she-devil, not for a moment splitting to seek out his kin and subjects. But Larkspur's presence was undeniable; The monarch felt earth rumble beneath his Goliath's paws, and knew that they would surely be victorious, as they had been with the bear. None would meet Sirius and Larkspur in such battle and know an easy victory.
The arrogant thought fuelled his pulsing blood. As he rushed the woman, the largeness of his form was powerful and new - Sirius had never been a warrior by trade, but a hunter, and thus his first offensive attack was more a judge of his own capabilities than a flawless leap. The small woman met his charge, and as his huge fangs clamped shut with a hollow clash on nothing but air, the King was already aware of her own smaller, more lithe form darting past, equipped with some strange spear. His body, enlarged by the genes that could produce this vengeful form, twisted with a panther-like grace in the air; but such ballet could not evade the bloodthirsty edges to her weapons. They bite into the flesh of his foreleg - Sirius felt only a dull acknowledgement of pain, and nothing more. Deep crimson blood spilled from the laceration and ran in rivulets down his foreleg, and smelling his own blood, the peacock lord's black lips writhed, and a snarl ebbed from the deep cavern of his chest.
He landed gracefully, slightly favoring the wounded fore-limb. Wickedly curved claws bit into the soil, granting him the ability to whip about and face the small woman once more. His wet nose sought her scent, but it was hidden, confused, and the pack of the infiltrators remained unknown.
Now that the surprised of her weapon had been revealed, she would not so easily strike the King again. His dark, venomous mind hissed menacing thoughts, the genius within forming strategical plans hindered only by the unhesitating wrath of his fury. The Hunter's narrowed pupils darted over the weapon she brandished, now christened with his own blood - It was long, a staff tipped with deadly blades. If he was close enough to her, its own length would prove a downfall, and he would be able to pin her down without much further trouble, surely. Thoughts of death curled icy tendrils in his mind - But, lo, whilst he might have burned to kill these foolish invaders now, his cold blood would allow for the survivors to serve some purpose first.
The thoughts moved about in his mind within instants, and barely a second had passed before the muscles in Sirius' hindquarters bunched, his entire form gathering to spring after her. He feigned to the left, before aiming low; Fangs sought her ankle, knowing a weakness there, as there was in all prey beasts. His teeth sought to grab her ankle and drag her feet out from under her, most probably mauling them in the process; unable to stand, the woman would surely find her staff to be useless.
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