He has trailed her scent this far, darkened paws scraping at the earth, parting that soil beneath those thickened claws as he does, eyes of emerald green fixated upon what exists ahead, unmoving, unblinking, mind holding singular purpose in this evening. He is rarely far from She of Red and White, often they part, meet, part, and meet once more within a night, often they are given to hunt within an area much the same or return to the company of each other when the daylight parts the blackened oblivion he has come to call his kingdom and yet these past few days she has been absent- carved for herself another den within the thickness of the forest and as such he seeks her now. She is his possession, his belong and for too long has been parted from it, her scent a taste upon the air that summons that Nightmare from the confines of the nights shrouds to perch upon the edge of the forest itself. Yet this day he does not come alone. She lingers in his wake, Small Red and White- though she is no longer truly small, her red eyes aglow within the gloom behind him for she is cautious, unwilling to approach to close to the one she calls Sire, remains wary of his space, trails behind only when it is the Prince moves once more to part dense undergrowth and the shadows of trees that twist upon the earth.
He can scent the birth, the smell of blood and heat seeing saliva drip readily from his jaws in anticipation- for he has learned such a scent is given to lead to food, his delight in a meal soon to be had assured in the quickness of his steps though he remains silent still, hulking obsidian form slowing only upon his approach of the space and the mewling cries that utter from beneath the earth and cause sharpened ears to prick forward in response. The scents….confuse him, mind unfamiliar as lips pull back from whitened fangs in response and Riven shifts behind him to slide into his shadow, her lighter form hissing an equally agitated snarl as her ears flatten up her skull and fangs flash within the gloom in a near mirror imagery of her sire, though whether she responds to him alone of the foreign scents she has discovered cannot be said. He is content in her presence, tolerable of Little Red and White whom bears his scent in her blood, though she is ever wary of himself, submissive and yet dutiful to his commands, never seeking to encroach upon his space as he comes forward now and Riven moves to walk beside him, her white and black head at his hip as she does.
The scent of Raven is….new and yet ;aced with Flare’s own in a manner to dictate ownership, that blackened hellion given to pause now before the den as deadened eyes rest upon that small one of black and red whose blood holds another scent, one he has come to know so well as a snarl curls with wickedness in his throat, teeth lashing harshly towards her and yet it is not a true attack- no attempt to shred open her flesh is made beyond this warning snap as he seeks to have her move, to chase Raven from the entrance of the den. She is not his thing…..yes she is a belonging of She of Red and White and for this alone she is permitted. The badger that had been placed amongst the pile of meat that rests outside is taken within his own jaws, lips parted to lick at the blood that runs from it still before his own head is lowered to peer within the den. That cold, reptilian gaze rests briefly upon She of Red and White, the scnet of blood and….milk not unknown to him, the growl within his throat given to die though it is not for love nor affection nor any sense of emotion. He simply remembers her aggression, remembers her fury in her determination to protect those that smell of milk and as such he offers little more then a snort before instinct demands he seat himself. That ebony form is lowered to the earth, Raven’s place and meal taken by himself for now, for nature demands he alone protect this space, mind incapable of understanding this desire, more so he merely does as such, content to consume the badger carcass as he sits within the darkness, snarls offered towards Raven each time she dare approach- though whether he protects his newborns or merely his meal cannot be said. Riven is tolerated further perhaps, allowed to place her head within the den, eyes of red resting upon her Mother, tail given to wave a joyous beat at the sight before she too is sent away.
Riven offers little protest- for Big Black is right to do as such, the young ones are for protecting, yes, yes, for she is female, she understands the manner of young things though has never sought to birth them herself. She offers no more than a rumbling growl as she is turned from the den, red and black form pacing away from the space, her attentions turned upon the other, the younger girl, the one that is not sister but smells of Mother all the same, eyes narrowed in a way most unpleasant as she does. Big Black is offered space once more, the girl circling wide around her sire whom had called for her this night until she stands behind the little girl, lips parted to utter words- for Riven knows of words as others do not.
“Riven wants to know who you are? Riven wants to know why you are near Big Red and White. Belongs to Riven, yes, both do.”
For they are HER parents and thusly her belongings.