Sour was the best way to describe the scent that Tychon caught. He paused, irritated spines forming over his shoulders briefly before he shook them away and set off more urgently down the mountainside. A stranger was inside the borders and Tychon had a word or two to say about it. Of course, with his damn luck, Masque bolted up the pass from the opposite directiobn. How had she gotten there?! He hadn’t even hear or smelled her coming. He startled to a stop with wide eyes, overwhelmed by her puppyish agility as she twirled around him on the narrow path. He did not have time for her right now.

He opened his mouth to tell her as much, but caught from his peripheral vision a dark figure. The sour aroma he carried with him consumed Tychon’s nose and his amber eyes shifted from Masque to the stranger. Tychon’s head and tail raised in response to the jagged approach of the wolf. Who was he to claim dominance over Tychon, sentry of Spirane? Ah, dammit. It sounded stupid even in his head. WHatever. Point was; he was a pompous loner and Tychon would endeavor to subdue him or chase him out before Deanerys needed to get involved. But then Masque, like the naive princess of joy she was, sing-song greeted him and bounded towards him. Tychon sitffened for half a moment while his brain screamed, WHAT?! She had zero sense!

Determined to protect her from the male who clearly meant harm, a vicious warning vibrated the air as he leaped forward to cut Masque off. He pinned her with a severe eye that happened to be on the side of his mangled lip, which twisted up in an ugly manner while spit dripped from his exposed teeth. Hoping to have shocked her into stillness, Tychon turned his attention back to the trespasser and began to growl, ”Get lost lon-”