Rocky Road

The large hybrid brute moved slowly into the new valley, his head low to the ground as he sought to find out what kind of species lived here. Felines' scents were everywhere, he growled slightly. He heard stories of them, saw one even. It was brought in when a person claimed his fighting wolf could beat everything, the wolf gave a good, enjoyable, long fight, but it did not last. He had studied its movements from his cage, for he heard the two-leggers planning on putting him in there with it. They were fast, their claws about as dangerous as their teeth. But he also heard most did not fight unless threatened or starving, he silently hoped he would fall into either category.

The st. bernard cross padded further in the country, towards a small creek that caught his eye. He stopped at its edge and looked around, seeing nothing he cautiously lowered his head to drink. He looked about again, turning to actually study the grounds he stood upon.

*Cougar*

A sudden snarling-screech came from nearby. It was from a cougar who had picked up on Rocky Road's scent and was warning him away. This feline had made a recent kill of a sickly mule deer and was zealously guarding the meal.

Even with a rusty-tan coat and deep golden eyes that set him apart from the new snowfall, this cougar was good at keeping hidden. But with a hard earned meal, he was intent on keeping any pesky scavengers awayk even if it meant warning them before they knew of the potential food.

Rocky Road

The hybrid swung his body around so he faced where the noise was coming from, his body bristling and his face holding a vicious snarl. Though he could not set his eyes exactly where the cougar layed, he found the general direction from his scent. He paused, studing its scent, meat was twined in with it. At that moment he was not hungry, nor did he care to try to go for the food. His face was still in a silent snarl, a careful step was given backwards.

Rocky Road

He titled his head to the side when no response once given. He shrugged and turned to leave, being finished with his drink. He should really find a place he could call his own, though he did not think any pack would want to bring him in knowing a whole other pack was after his hide.

He padded out of the country, looking for another.