mane flattened by air, savannah coursing under his paws, he left dust risen from knots of tangled golden grass behind the wake of his revolving tail. a large cloud of taupe'd particles rose around him, his hindquarters, his muscular forearms.
his eyes were not searching for sancha, but the round ears had slid back to listen for the sound of her delicate paws.
for that she was, tapered and delicate, too-wide compared to other canines but in his shadow she was a slate of porcelain, and it fed a wholly masculine pride to think that way.
grab the throat,he directed.
bite and hold fast to ebb the pulsing life.
pride now, pride seeping where disdain should have been.