Rougaru does not miss the interaction between the pretty desert flower and the black matriarch of the jungle. Small ears pitch forward amid the tangle of windswept locks as he transcribes the scene upon his approach. No doubt if the desert mare had been clear of Faolain’s intention to intervene in his claim upon her, she would have gladly disappeared into the dense jungle of the ridge without a backward glance in his direction. The wolf found amusement in the fact that she did not know her and that though Faolain tried, it was clear her attempt was futile even before he made his sudden appearance. White rims her vivid green eyes as the painted woman shrinks into herself. It amused the beast how easily more timid mares turned him into a demon, and well, the wolf was not one to dispute that story. It fit well with the wolf.

It was clear Faolain had been anticipating his arrival. The wolf would have rather enjoyed drawing her blood and tasting the all too familiar tang on his tongue again, but then, she was still the guardian of his son and tense though it may be, Rougaru still held hope for joining the island beneath one monarchy. Emerald eyes watch as she catches his sudden appearance. Like the invisible currents that move the waters of a stream she is fluid in her movement. She does not wait for him to close the distance between them or brace for the inevitable impact of his body with hers. Instead she moves like the agile shadow cat that clung to the high branches of the jungle trees. In one calculated motion she pivots her heels and lurches forward, leaving his parted jaws with nothing to grasp a firm hold on. Blunt ivories clack together audibly as a guttural growl echoes deep within his lungs. Unlike the other cowardly creatures that had attempted to steal from the wolf king in the past, Faolain does not flee from the scene once her cover has been blown. Instead the long legged black mare circles back to turn and face his hard eyes. There are a myriad of emotions that play upon her face from anger to pain to confusion, all of which cause the stallion deep within him to pause and his icy gaze to falter. A single lobe flickers, the taunt mahogany dappled skin of his shoulders rippling as friendship wavers above his feral senses. There was that small voice that begged him to forget this happened, a small voice that whispered she meant no harm and that she was only doing what she thought was right. For a moment, the stallion even won control, bringing Rougaru up short as he searched the woman’s eyes for answers to the questions the wolf presented her.

But whatever moment that could have been, passes quickly as the Ridge Queen looks beyond him to the crumpled form of his painted beauty. There is compassion in her voice, a tenderness and sympathy in her eyes that screamed far beyond what words might ever slip past her lips. In that moment the wolf lunges forward, dragging what control away from the stallion that he might muster. Golden eyes gleam upon the brown eyes of the woman as she makes her retreat beyond the borders. Ever the vigilant guardian, Rougaru follows her with head bent and ears laced tight against his skullcap. Teeth clench together behind closed jaws as the stallion stomps after her, making a point to shuffle his hooves along the leaf litter so that Faolain would know that he was making certain of her departure himself. She no longer had his trust or his loyalty. Only when she is beyond the borders of their lands does he stop and lift his head in challenge. He does not speak as she disappears into the deep green forest, instead channels the rising storm of rage and fury. He releases it with a hard snort and a wild toss of his head before turning back for where he left Chelle curled tightly on the sun warmed sands.

In the few moments it took for him to escort Faolain home, he had almost assumed that Chelle would at the very least rise to meet his returning form with accusing eyes and tense frame. Proud mahogany head ducks beneath the last layer of palm branches that separate them to reveal her crumpled form still laying just beyond the reach of the surf. Multifaceted eyes of emerald conceal the golden gaze of the beast now as he slips free of the shadows of the jungle and onto the bright sunlit beach. Large, saucer-like hooves trudge through the dry sands as he drops his head, tilting it just a bit so that his bright gaze can meet her own easily. ”Do you always throw tantrums like this? Rolling around on the ground will serve you no purpose here. Shall we at least be civil?” he asks, ears pitching forward amid the cream and caramel colored tendrils of his mane that tumble down each side of his muscular neck. A wolfish grin tugs at the ash dusted corners of his whiskered lips as the stallion cocks a single hind hoof to make it quite plain to her that he had no intention of leaving her alone should she hope to outlast his patience. It was possible of course for he was known for his short fuse, but today, today he had ulterior motives. ”Welcome to Paradise and the island of Atlantis. My name is Rougaru. Care to give me yours too or shall I be forced to find a suitable pet name for you?” he asks, a deep throated chuckle rumbling in his breast as the stallion flicks his tail idly back and forth against his haunches… waiting.