slave your hearts

Lohit · 05-20-2012, 04:17 PM

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447;
I am a slow pokey-poke. Also, feel free to spot the buck or whatever :>

Image by Nat

There was a certain kind of elation that emitted from the coyote when he heard the other agree to give up a few strands of his blood-red hair. The coyote hadn't expected another answer, however, and probably would have taken it by force if he felt compelled. It was the thought of adding the red to his wonderful collection of red things that made Lohit flash a toothy yellow grin at Jiva the red-haired. He would have it, and soon, and the desert hued coyote could feel his own blood growing hot, like the sun. It climbed into his ears, and the rushing sound of blood was heard over the male's remark at the loss of a meal.

But it seemed the gods would grant him and the citrine-eyed coyote another chance. Immediately the coyote's focus became on his sight, smell, and hearing the prey in the distance, his mind vanishing from Jiva's red hair - if only for the moment. The male's underbite curled and turned into some sort of snarl when Jiva answered him, one ear instantly snapping towards the other male to catch his words. His falcon had a mind of its own, but the pair knew how to hunt together. "Garuda.. try.. d-do what.. do what want," he snapped, without taking his slanted eyes off of the direction they were to be heading The foreign male could only hope the falcon would listen, but he could not make the bird do what he wanted all the time. "We go." The coyote put his heels to his mare's side rather sharply, while whistling for the falcon. Luckily for him, the bird pushed himself off of the branch and spread its black wings. "Hunt!" He yelled out, without thinking that it might startle whatever prey made itself known.

The vulture-like falcon took off ahead of them, and Lohit sat forward on his horse as he urged her on faster. Lohit only hoped the other wolf was behind him (if not, he would have to chase down the red-haired man later), oversized ears perked forward atop his tangled hair. A rustle in the woods directed the falcon to his right, and without reins to guide his mare along, the coyote used small words and his own feet to push her in the right direction. The wild male lifted his nose to the air, nostrils flaring as he took in the drifting scent of a young buck, feeling his lips salivate as his protruding tongue could almost taste it. Citrine eyes had yet to lay a glimpse on the running meat, but the hunter knew in his gut that they would find it and bring it down.

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