He roams aimlessly, a beast without a purpose. Powerful limbs crunch the fallen autumn leaves beneath his colossal hooves as he prowls along, tail arched high and flowing in tangled strands behind him. A gentle Orangemoon breeze tussles his mane and chills his skin, a welcome relief from the searing heat of Tallsun. His nostrils gape and flare in the vain hope of catching the aroma of mare, because even when his wanderings have no aim, he is an opportunist who will divert his path at the first scent of ecstasy.

In the absence of that, he finds himself stood before the great ruin that dominates this particular patch of forest, flicking back his heavy head to glance up to the top of it. Beneat the shade of it, he can make out a massive, multi-faceted glass roof, reflecting the early evening sun and breaking it into colourful pieces. The behemoth remembers standing here watching his dam fight the unicorn, when he was just a feral young boy untested in battle. Now he stands here a man, and he fancies that he can still see the bloodstains from that fateful day. With a masculine grunt, he lifts himself onto the concrete plateau, feeling the unfamiliar surface beneath his feet. Each step elicits a metallic clang that makes his ears flatten, but his ascension upon the stone throne is not to be over so soon.

His companion bellows gleefully from the nearby trees as he catches a rabbit, then lands on the rotunda roof to devour the carcass. The dragon's claws clack heavily on the glass and sprinkle dust down onto the stallion below, coupled with liberal sprays of blood. With little else to do, the earthen titan stands with a tilted hind leg, shifting his weight between each muscular limb. Perhaps something will appear to entertain him... ""

Mare.

That smell, that delicious stench, is one that the beast would know anywhere. He could be twenty years old, dying, broken, and he would still have this drive to sate the ache that bursts through him whenever he smells a woman. His massive head immediately swings, upper lip lifting and flexing to taste the air, dragging out the particles that identify the presence of a woman. Massive hooves clack on the stone below as he turns fully, white face hunting, searching, seeking. Need gnaws in his belly like starvation, and his tail arches a fraction as his eyes devour the landscape.

Vérzés is the first to notice the mare - or, more specifically, her companion. A large black cat, begging. Volterra feels his bonded's derision at the mewling that emits from the creature, and the red turns his back to continue feasting on his kill with his tail lashing idly behind him. The stallion casts a half-glance at the serval, but the vast majority of his attention is saved for the mare that accompanies him. Smaller than him, but not so small she'd break beneath his weight, she bears the horn that seemingly marks her as a unicorn. The beast moves forwards, nostrils flaring wide, determining that she is the one leaking the delicious odour of mare.

Desire twists his gut and bids his powerful neck to arch, displaying each rock-hard muscle for her viewing pleasure. "Your companion," he intones in his thick baritone. "It appears to need feeding." But, truthfully, he cares not a jot for the serval's hunger - he only cares for his own, and he thinks that this darling young mare will be able to help him out in sating it.

She points out that neither she nor her companion are in any fit state to hunt, and the beast's eyes linger again on the burn wounds. He cannot know that his sister's dragon caused them, the delicious irony of that; he only knows the thick scent of mare that keeps aching through his nostrils, through his mouth, everywhere. The beast inside him begins to pound at the cages of its prison, and the behemoth feels his eyes darken dangerously, hungrily. He is a wolf, and he is hunting.

Is it annoying you that he's hungry? "Not me," Volterra replies, roughly, sharply. "Him." And he gestures to his red dragon, who is looking down upon the serval with an expression of great distaste, like he's examining a piece of shit on his paw.

Then the mare asks him for a favour - to spare something for her bonded. The giant's eyes gleam, and the wolf's grin becomes the unhinged beam of a snake. One simple nudge of his mind sends Vérzés spiralling from his kill back towards the forest to do his master's bidding - to hunt. Volterra's eyes never leave the woman's sumptious curves even as screams echo through the woodland, the frightened bellows of prey. Then, like a crimson arrow, the dragon returns; claws dripping, teeth savagely hooked into the flesh of another dead rabbit, blood splattering the ground below. He circles overhead, allowing meat-scent to waft in the gentle breeze towards the serval, his wings taking him lower and lower to tease the poor cat. Look what you could have. He's just out of reach, but close enough to display how delicious the kill would undoubtedly be to a starving belly.

The stallion looks up to his bonded, his approval reverberating into the dragon's mind. Then, his attention returns to the hybrid. "I could spare something," he purrs, his rogue's features twisted into a smirk. "But it'll cost you." And, as he advances on her, his gaze ravishing every inch of her skin, it's quite apparent what form of payment he takes.

Yessss... His prey reels into his trap, and triumph lurches in his chest. His gaze darts down with interest as her starving companion transforms from a cat to something similar to a dragon - his brow arches, interested in this shape-shifting creature, although his red's derision never lessens. The dragon continues his slow, steady circles, unwilling to relinquish his catch until he's sure his bonded will obtain what he desires.

She speaks, commanding her companion to go with Vérzés. The stallion's heart skips, realising that his plot may be working, that he may be in luck. Predator; every muscle in the leviathan's body is tensed, tough, ready, excited. She paws at him, pressing him backwards, but only temporarily; he roves forward again, sweat beading out upon his flesh, foam erupting onto his lips. She demands a promise, and the beast looks to his circling dragon - he'll say anything at the moment. "Promise." Reluctantly, the red hisses, displeased that he's being used simply so the stallion can get his pleasure. But he remains silent, knowing that his colossal companion will not back down now he has this mare in his sights.

With a resigned snarl, the crimson dragon follows the woman's companion into the forest, dropping the kill for the burnt creature to feast upon. Then, like a bloodied shadow, he's gone; he knows better than to disturb Volterra in these situations. He severs the tendril between their minds, leaving the bare minimum of contact to bind them together.

His bonded, meanwhile, swoops like a wolf pack towards his prey, taking her beneath his weight and sating the starvation in his soul. He doesn't think of the consequences; they simply don't cross his mind.

-fade-