The breeze kicked up, and as he moved, he felt the grasses brushing against his legs. The wet fur clung to him. He was tired, yes, but he knew he had to keep moving. Even back home he had to be on edge at nearly on all times. Robichaux was used to most of these ‘bad’ kinds of things. More than anyone knew. His legs were the result of a few near misses with some gators, and some pretty wicked little rodents that would get him in the middle of the night. He’d gotten smart about it over the years, being on his own for so long he knew more what to do now.

The breeze moved once more, and he smelt a large kitty. The feline smelt worse wet than he did. He snickered, his keen ears listening for her movements. She was quiet, yes, but he still heard some. Being in a new land, his first night, he wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the warning signs. Her scream echoed through the air, he shifted, his large frame moving swiftly, her claws grazing over the already scarred tissue of his legs as he backed up, his legs lifting when he moved. He snarled, his large jaw unhinging as he snapped towards the feline’s face, his canine’s intending to latch onto the side of her face, ear, neck, anywhere he can reach. He wasn’t letting her get him to the ground, there was no way this little kitty was going to win, not tonight.

His nerves were on high, his muscles tense, his eyes tracking the feline’s movements swiftly.