He’s always been wild at heart.

But now it tears at him from the inside out - feral, fierce and unrelenting. The same force that once drove his wanderlust now drives powerful jaws to clamp around warm and tender flesh of jugulars and causes the swiftness of his claws to pierce the softness of supple skin. Teeth tear into each sinew and muscle without hesitation, pulling away tendon from bone and the roughness of his sandpaper tongue savoring the flavor of each mouthful. The mountain lion not a part of him, it is him, and refuses to give him any choice in the matter. 

It had taken him to the mountains, to the cooler air and the rocky crags that would serve as the perfect perches for hunting prey as well as remaining hidden from sight. The proud puma prowls the otherwise abandoned mountainscape, hunting and sleeping in a solitary lifestyle that is both gruesome and majestic. The lion exists without Svedka’s consciousness, a seemingly wild cougar with no other counterpart besides itself. Perhaps, however, the stallion still resides somewhere in the depths of the wildcat - for his territory did not bring him into the valley where his family resides, and he has yet attempted to appease his monstrous appetite with horseflesh. 

Fresh blood stains the front of his large tawny paws and the whiteness of his short muzzle, lying on his belly casually as he strips meat with quick tugs of his head. Black-lined eyes glance up from his kill, nearly finished with his meal. The deer would feed him for at least another week and though his belly is full with the warmth of meat, he continues to dig his claws into the side of its open ribcage, licking at the ivory bones with a satisfying purr resounding in the cougar’s chest. 

A sound somewhere in the near distance before him causes the tightening of his jaws around his prize, claws lengthening to fasten deeper into the still-warm meat. 

A growl peels from black-lined lips, snarling wildly as the roundness of his ears fall flat against the golden fur of his head. Nearly black eyes scan the mountainscape before him, tail flicking wildly behind him as another growl escapes him - louder, this time - warning whoever may be near that he is not keen on visitors. 

svedka

The lion doesn’t know of the things that has come to pass; only its next meal, where it will slumber, and whether intruders need to be warned of their trespassing. Svedka’s thoughts are lost beneath the pure animalistic behavior - perhaps they are even forgotten amongst the months of isolation in the cold mountain air, shrouded by instinct and ferocity. The lion does not recognize the panther as anything but a rising challenge, especially when the she-cat slinks from seemingly nowhere - unperturbed by his presence but meeting the sound of his continuous growl with the strong thrum of her own. The sound of her makes him grip his meal tighter, blood filling his mouth as he seeks to protect the prize that his rightly his own.

Dark-tipped ears are flat against the round shape of his head, glittering black eyes daring her to step closer with each fluid step she takes. The leopard eventually comes to a halt, the amber of her irises flicking from his clutched prey to him almost uninterestedly.

But the lion knew better.

The male releases his jaws from the deer, lurching in one fluid and graceful movement to his paws. His tail slashes behind him menacingly, his throat reverberating with the terrifyingly slow clicks of another warning growl. The sound grows, melting into a ferocious snarl as a high-pitched and twisting shriek leaves him. He steps over his prey, dark eyes fastened on the leopard as now he is the one who stalks forward, blood-stained lips curling away from the yellowing of sharp fangs.

He is not sure, but the cougar wonders if the leopard did not come seeking to steal his meal but perhaps for an entirely different reason. 

The terrible sound that once quaked from his throat dies into a peal of grumblings, throaty and robust, as his unsheathed claws purposefully trill into the rocky terrain beneath him as he readies to meet her head on in a bloody display of ferocity and strength. 

svedka

She meets his ferocity with her own, matching his prowess with an elongation of her spine and the constant striking of her tail behind her. There is a ripple of curiosity (amusement, maybe?) that sparkles in the depths of his wild eyes; something familiar and enlightening - a barely noticeable window into the soul that truly lies beneath the cougar’s snarling expression. That sparkle lasts for a breadth of a moment, overcome with the burning and blazing fire that is only pure instinct and wildness - unable to outshine the mountain lion’s desires.

It is in this moment (where the lion swallows the stallion) that she leaps, her outstretched paws searching for purchase on shoulder or barrel. He is caught off guard, but the lion rises to meet her - his hind legs balance the heavy muscle of his body as her unsheathed claws find his shoulders, shouldering her weight with a forceful push against her. His own tawny paws reach out to swat at her face or neck to attempt to slice her skin as well as to shove her away from him. He turns his head to avoid the latching of her jaws around his throat, the air hissing near his face as her teeth lock together only inches away.

There is a gurgled shriek that boils in his throat as claw slices through the thickness of his fur and skin, the sensation only fueling the adrenaline that pulses wildly beneath his golden hide. The sounds that rumble from his chest are carnal and terrifying, echoing throughout the mountain-scape shrilly.

Gravity pulls the weight of the cougar back to the earth with a solid thud, but there is no moment’s hesitation when his paws touch the ground. He is already pushing towards her again, bringing any space that could have separated them to nothing. In the midst of the fight - the metallic smell of his own blood mixed with the stale scent from his meal - the mountain lion feels the familiar pin-pricking of the other in its mind. The lion’s eyes flash between blue (a lively color, full of expression) and solid black (like a doll’s eyes: lifeless, still). It’s enough to cause the puma to squeeze its eyes tightly shut, peeling its lips back as another clicking shriek leaves its throat in protest.

With a spitting snarl he attempts to lunge towards her throat, ignoring the painful throbbing across his eyes and head, accompanied by a heavily thrown paw towards the spotted slope of her shoulder or neck. She is a skilled warrior and he is sure that his attempt to find her jugular would go unfruitful.

svedka