There was something about the tri-colored girl that flounced about the clearing that held his attention. As he circled around and drew closer to the other observers, each of her movements turned her bodice just so, preventing him from looking into her face. He continued around the pair of wolves as they seemingly writhed about, coming to a stop near Mirage. For the briefest of moments his attention was drawn away from the party's hostess, and in that moment she stopped and turned towards him. Her voice rang out across the short distance that separated her from Ripper and Mirage, just as he asked the other girl why they were doing...whatever it was they were doing.

Ripper's head snapped away from Mirage, in a motion so abrupt it nearly gave him whiplash. His ears were thrust forward, the sound of her voice so different from anything he had ever heard before. Her laugh was intoxicating, making his stomach roll and flip in a way that was completely foreign to him. At first he seemed to recoil, as if stung by a bee, stepping back on a hind paw as his head drew back and gave a slight shake. The girl circled around him, and as he tracked her every movement he was at once completely oblivious to the other wolves present and entirely aware of their proximity to the girl who flitted about like a hummingbird trying to decide which flower to drink sweet, sweet nectar from. Inexplicably, he was consumed by a need for her to choose him. To stop drawing nearer to other wolves and remain within reach of him at all times. Once more he half shook his head, unwilling to fully commit to the action for it would mean he had to break his line of sight to her.

Suddenly, she slid to a halt before him, and he felt an intense need to go to her, to engage in the movements Avtandil had displayed before and take his place in the toothless spar he had observed upon his arrival. But Ripper was, for lack of a better word, a relatively lazy wolf. He was much more likely to be found basking in the sunlight watching others chase down a doe than engage in the hunt himself. More often than not, when Sekhmet took to pulling and chewing on his ears, he would simply tolerate it rather than snap back at her. It took a lot to push him to a point where he would retaliate. It seemed that the larger he got, the less likely he was to expend energy unnecessarily. This movement, for the fun of it, was such a strange concept to him. And yet, he could feel her desire for him to try, to come and move with her and...dance?

An unceremonious leap propelled him forward, closing the gap between them as he landed at her side. Slightly taller than her, wide hazel-green eyes peering down at her from the black mask that coated his face. Now that he was there, within range to be able to touch her if only he reached out with his nose, he didn't want to move again. However, he could feel her desire, her want for him to mimic the movements she had displayed before. And for reasons he did not understand, nor take the time to wonder about, he wanted to please her. Ripper just wasn't sure how, and so he lifted a foreleg and pawed the air between them, seeming almost like a horse. He looked down, then back up at her. Was this right?