The young wolf was not left to wait alone for long.

The zephyrs that blew over this island were far different than the stifling breeze that wove its way between the thick undergrowth of Atlantis. Where Paradise had always been humid and thick to the point of suffocating at certain parts of a summer day, here the wind blew crisp, bringing with it healthy doses of frost and horseflesh. If there was one thing that had to be the most noteworthy about Tinuvel, it was the openness and exhilaration he felt. The beast within him balked, having grown up beneath the shadows of broad leaves and thick jungle. Loupgaru however, well he reveled in the new experience laid out before him. Perhaps he would just have to stay a bit longer than he first planned.

A sudden movement beneath the treeline to his left catch his attention and bristling for challenge, the bold intruder shifts his weight to face what comes. Chocolate ears perk amid the tumble of his multicolored mane as golden eyes fall on the stranger that moves towards him at a brisk pace. Not Parva whatever her name was. At least… he didn’t think so. No, he distinctly remembered her having a pale coat… or was it red? Whatever, this stranger was not her. He gives his proud head a shake, shelving the confusing thoughts away for a later date. Whiskered nostrils flare wide as he breathes in the scents around him, sifting through the heavy odor of pine and cedar until hers thickens. It was a her afterall. Was this island filled with only mares? Why had he not come visiting sooner. Surely he could defeat a few females and take the island for himself. Then again…. Parva had said something about being a princess which usually means there is a king lingering about. He had to be old and decrepit by now though didn’t he?

Confidently, he takes two steps towards the stranger, making it rather plain that he had no intentions of being run off without satisfaction in one form or another. Yellow gold eyes roam shamelessly over the blue and white blotches of the woman’s skin, lingering on the powerful curve of her hip. If the self proclaimed princess wasn’t around to greet him, he supposed this was a suitable substitute. Like himself, she sported a healthy mantle of black mane and where most of the mares father collected on Paradise over the years were lithe and sleek looking, this female was clearly built much more like himself. Thick muscles rippled beneath her skin accented by the arch of her broad neck. While he himself was not the tallest stallion on the islands, nether was this woman the shortest, a point made clearer as the distance between them shortened.

A graveled nicker rumbles from his lungs as he strides forward to meet her, his own thickly muscled neck arching as his ashen muzzle stretches towards her own to inhale the exotic perfume that clung to her skin. Nope. Not princess. He remains silent now as his feral gaze examines the sharp contours of her cheek and the almost delicate curve of her dark ears. Pretty. Even without the allure of autumn he feels a surge of testosterone rise to meet the beast’s growling tones. Mine.

He had no rights to be sure, and no home really to call his own but well, he was young and angry still and that combination never led to a rational mind. He drops his neck now, striking out with blunt teeth towards her white streaked shoulder in an attempt to lay his claim.