She was ready. Yet why did his heart stutter as he followed her to the battle grounds? Why did his lungs burn with baited breath as the two wolves collided and his paws tingle when his Dragon’s blood kissed the earth? Fangs gnashed as he began to pace, mind struggling to find something to focus on, anything other than the heavy pants of his Dragon. Nose frantically pinpointing hare, grass, insect…metal…her.

Enraged he tosses his head, right paw lashing out to dig into the earth, leaving a gorge in his wake. He should be beside her, fighting shoulder to shoulder for what was right, for what was hers. For anything she wanted he would do. Wherever she wanted him, he would go, and for once the notion did not frighten him. It did not unsteady him as much as the deadly gleam in that she-man’s eyes. They promised pain, tremendous pain. They whispered of death, of silent ambushes in the middle of the night and as such his hackles were raised. His mouth salivated for her blood; his eyes coveted the sight of her eyes dimming just so that he would know for sure that Dragon was safe. Yet a small piece of him held him in check. It soothed the beast that was he, murmured what he did not want to hear. She would not forgive him if he interfered. She would hate him and he could not bear that burden, could not tolerate not being near her after so long. She was his.

So with a heaving breath he waits, rooted to the spot, his body so rigidly still that he seemed sculpted. Eyes following the spectacle before him with deadly precision, always watching, always her shadow. And then it was over; multifaceted optics tracing the settling of the dust to reveal his wounded Queen. She panted, exhausted yet her pride and strength glowed about her as she lifted her tail in dominance. Blood laced with the silvery strands of her ruff, and tangoed down her banner yet she stood tall and firm. She was beautiful and he longed to go to her, to wrap himself up in her, to cleanse the blood from her body. He sought her embrace, her heated gaze just to reaffirm that she was alright, that she will make it. Yet, such feelings, such displays were not him and as much as his heart broke to do it he turned from her. Her only indication that he was ever there was the rabbit that he had caught earlier, he had placed it on the way out from the battle ground, and he hoped that she may find the energy to eat. To replenish her energy before taking her rightful place, but somehow he knew that she might just be in too much pain to do so. If she leaves it, he will only circle back for it, bring it to her that night when she lay down.

It is not long before they are upon the mountain yet he is cloaked where she is in the light. She is stunning as she calls for the pack, strong and able, yet his eye is keen. He will be there if she so much as leans to one side. She has lost much blood and this worry him. She needed attention yet the thought of another touching her…well that raised his blood pressure dangerously high. Not that it needed much prompting, what with the entrance and departure of Purge. He is sure that any around could hear the pounding of his heart, and the roar of his blood as it raged within him. He wanted Dragon to lay down, to rest not hold meetings. Yet a leader is never held down by her own physical detriments. WHY is he so conflicted when it came to her? He wants her to succeed yet his heart seeks her to be happy without worry…was there ever a middle ground?

He does well, keeping to his position until a rather stocky make comes forth with a pup clutched in his maw. He introduces himself and his offspring, yet makes no mention of a mate or family. Was this male unattached? Unbidden and really he couldn’t control them if he wanted to, his legs carry him forward and from the shadows of the tree. On near silent paws, he had no intention of be careful yet old habits die hard, he creeps closer to Dragon, eyes never leaving the sparse grouping of wolves before him. His stalk is slow and purposeful until he is by her right side, slightly behind her, yet he does not step onto the rock. That is not his place.

He does not speak, only looks. One can tell his intent, his claim on their Queen, and his intense need to be near her, to protect her. One look at his semi aggressive posture and all knows that one wrong misstep and the energy that seems to ripple across his aura will be unleashed.