He is not stupid. He knew that there was a female that he did not know lingering within his lands. Did they not think he wouldn't catch a wiff of her scent and shits? It was inevitable, and even his eyes had seen her from a distance before. He did know it was the girl that Vainglory spoke of, that she was supposed to be his son's imprint. That is why he did not drive her out or rip her neck out and let her bleed as a feast for gators. That is the only reason.

It went far too long without a proper introduction. Astraroth was a hard-headed brute, and perhaps his brain did not think to show her. The alpha of the moors was going to inspect this female closer, if Astaroth liked it or not. He knew exactly where the den was, as he knew every little piece of dirt, knew whenever the water waved from a falling leaf- at least he felt he knew.

He did not see the action. He did not see it but it did hear some of it as he traveled with dark paws through the shadows of the trees that line the waters. The world in front of him was dim and dark, dripping with a cooling wetness from the coming fall. His nares inhale the damp air, smelling the scent of the female as he comes closer and closer to the den of his son.

His head reaches past the tall grasses that blocks his view, the sight of the female finally coming clear. She was eating upon the flesh of the enemy- an enemy that lives within this very territory. One deadly and yet one most satisfying to eat.

And perhaps he was a little hungry on this day. Her words come and they are not directly exactly in his direction- there were quite a few noises that rattle the leaves and shake the bushes around here. He comes from a slightly different trajectory, speaking of the matter of company or something that hardly stirred his interest. He appeared like a shadow dipped in blood, his scarred face staring her down. He does not cower and he does not hold back. He moves with a confidence and strength that only a true leader holds, and yet he holds not weakness upon his visage. He was here for many reasons, and the scent of blood only stirred the most primal of instincts.

He does not stop his paws until he is dead in front of her. His hackles of red are raised, and his eyes of violet, orange, and yellow does not falter. He does not take them from her until his muzzle dare lower. His teeth reach out in an attempt to rip into the flesh of her kill. He was the alpha here- and any kill was his if he made it or not. If there is not...protest, he will take a few good bites, and yet if there is...well, he would not have to tolerate disobedience, if she is Astaroth's imprint or not.