The chill in the mountains brings the lion down from its normal precipice of Hyaline, prowling into the lowerlands and searching for sustenance elsewhere than the stringy meat of underfed goats and deer, or the quick feet of the mountain hare. It is possible that the equine-soul that remains trapped inside of the cougar also begs to venture elsewhere - to the golden, dried grasses of the meadow where he used to roam frequently when his appetite was only vegetation and the ends of his legs did not end with sharp, curved claws.

The meadow is quiet and still in the cold of autumn. Winter is well on its way and it definitely shows - there is nothing here in the lowlands, and the puma’s face matches its disappointment. A scowl allows curved canines to protrude slightly from black-lined lips, large yet softly-padded feet bringing the male mountain lion through the flat lands. There is a moment where the lion decides to turn back from whence he came, but a sound of a youngling catches the puma’s ears. Immediately he is flattened to the earth, crouching beneath the soft tangles of golden meadow grasses, his tawny pelt blending in nearly flawlessly with the foliage.

It is then that Svedka spies her easily - a two-toned child huffing and puffing loudly in the near distance, then flopping to the ground loudly. The cougar’s nose twitches, sampling the wind and wondering how it is possible that a meal has so perfectly plopped itself before him only a few powerful leaps away - his teeth would be around the filly’s throat in moments, he knew, and she would barely even have time to register the ending of her life before her heart stopped.

Svedka stalks closer, the pointed parts of his shoulder blades pressing through his skin with each careful step.

The lion’s excitement of a easy prey does not last for long. Quickly, there is the sound of feathers and hoofbeats, causing him to pause in the way he moves closer to the filly. His nose wrinkles to reveal the grimace at the notable presence of another - a mother, perhaps? He settles to the earth, contemplating his next move while the winged horse attempts to awaken what would have been his meal. The lion’s black, slow-blinking eyes continues to watch the scene unfold, when suddenly there is a flicker of blue that surfaces in the irises. The lion’s claws unsheath and tense with the uncomfortableness, the flash of color fading in and out between bright, ocean blue and endless black. The equine fights for control (he had become stronger in these last few days, the lion has noticed) and the mountain lion fights back with swift turning of his head back and forth.

Finally, the attempt to shift control from lion to horse is too much for the cougar, and with a throaty yell it leaps up from its hiding place. No longer set on attempting to find its dinner, it stands tall above the golden grasses with a terrible growl on its face as it shakes its head, fighting the urge to allow Svedka any control. For a solid, slow moment, the lion’s eyes are a significant blue as it stares at the scene before him - an unfamiliar girl with an extremely familiar navy-winged woman - before black proceeds to take over its eyes fully.

It seems whatever to have been ailing the puma now has subsided, and already knowing he has lost any chance of a meal, the male cat turns from whence he came at a casual walk - the filly is lucky a caretaker had found her when she did.

svedka