Ronon watched as she danced away, his ears swivling back as she yapped at him, daring him to come and get her. Oh, he'd come get her, but he wasn't about to waist energy in a conventional race. He'd continue stalking her until he caught her off gard, or looking the wrong direction. Slowly he stepped forward, crouching low to the grounds and flattening his ears to break up his profile. Creeping through the long grass, he headed to the left, hoping to loop around behind her before she figured him out.
He was nearing his target, aiming towards her hip with the hope of nipping her tail before she darted away. He crouched lower in the grass, wiggling his rear in preperation for his attack, when a scent reached his nose. His ears shot up, and he stood straight up, hazle eyes scanning their surroundings. A growl rumbled from his chest, and he stalked stiff legged to stand beside Lyla. This wasn't the musk of wild cats from the circus... This was the stink of a skinwalker, it was in some feline form... Big. Bigger than he was for sure...
A hiss slid from him, and he placed himself in front of Lyla and glaring into the woods. Someone was out there, and he wasn't about to let them near the female he was seducing. Not when he'd finally found a female who could understand this life, after so many years alone
Sometimes I feel like Jesse James
Still tryin' to make a name
Knowing nothing's gonna change what I am
I was a young troubadour
when I rode in on a song
I'll be an old troubadour
when I'm gone
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