Directionless

They had picked a direction and walked. The solitary pale shadow was easier to spot as snow thinned and they traveled on ground that seemed to more accurately depict the current season. As the trees spaced themselves out more (they weren't going to go beyond the foothills) they felt small, smaller than their own age. Something about scale. It didn't matter too much though, now that they were somewhere less barren and locked in ice, most of their time would be spent trying to scrounge up small prey anyway -- a better use of their time than just wandering aimlessly. Perfectly within their abilities too.

Where they were already, they could feel the earth getting more gritty, less welcoming. This was probably the edge of their comfort zone, and they'd bounce off some invisible line there a few times before heading slightly more downhill. They studied the base of every tree, looking for holes among the roots, doing the same for shrubs along the way, meandering. Thus far, no successes, but also nothing that scared them off. Nobody seemed to be living here now -- or if they did, not at this part of the mountain -- nor was he finding any true scents of dangers. It seemed peaceful.
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The man enjoyed exploring and didn't tend to stay in one place for long. And so, he continued to travel, even after meeting another tiger, he didn't stay in the same place. His curiosity got the better of him in that regard. 

His strides were long and purposeful, ever step as powerful as the last with tense legs ready to strike at any second. He rounded a hill and blue orbs fell upon a wolf, one that seemed to be studying a tree. That was.... weird. He made no move to hide himself but also didn't outwardly announce his presence either. Instead, he just walked closer, his velvet paws almost silent on the earthen ground. He was curious to know if the wolf was smart enough to know he was there.

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So far, none of the burrows they'd found had seemed very active. Hell, a number of them might have even been caused by a bit of erosion, not small prey. So what was the key thing that they were missing? Should they go farther back down the hill? Perhaps small creatures also didn't like the rockier terrain up here. Or they just weren't looking in quite the right places, they weren't sure yet. They frowned slightly, but assumed that they'd figure it out before they got too hungry. A few trees down they did find one that had the scent of some kind of little rodent, but it was a few days old. Either it had another entrance and Cirrus just had bad luck, or maybe some other predator had been a bit more luck than they did.

Again they stopped, investigated, pawed at a small hole that they then came to realize was a tunnel below collapsing. It was old, abandoned. Not useful. But as they lifted their head, a very foreign scent assault his nostrils. Cirrus jumped up and turned, fur suddenly spiking down his back, freezing a moment -- that single breath before they decide flight or fight. Because they'd been paying attention to scents, it was unlikely they'd been followed for too long, but exactly how long they were unsure -- having their nose in the dirt hadn't helped. They certainly weren't expecting something that big, not that they'd ever known what a tiger was in the first place. And they weren't one to trust. All it would take was one wrong move on the dark cat's part and they'd be gone like the puff of smoke they were. That was a far greater chance of them staying alive than anything else.
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He continued to walk silently forward until, eventually, the wolf turned around, though it would have been too late if the large feline had decided to hunt him. Instead, the Russian cat chose to freeze, not wanting to freak out the already panicking wolf. Slowly and carefully he would sit down, wrapping his tail lazily around his front paws. "If I wanted snack, you be dead." He said simply, his voice dripping with a heavy Russian accent. 

He made no move towards or away from the wolf, waiting to see just how the other male would handle his large and rather intimidating appearance. Was he having fun messing with the wolf? Probably a bit more than he should.

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It was clear that this place was no longer safe. That mental freeze ended after a brief moment but it was hard to see the difference other than that subtle change in posture, slightly more defensive, a slight wrinkling of their muzzle as if they couldn't figure out if they wanted to outright snarl or not. Doing so might also be dangerous. That bit of indecision pulled them in multiple directions within his mind. They were tense, fur still on end as much as they could, though they were nowhere near as impressive as the cat, and they had no delusion that it was anything but that.

What the tiger said definitely wasn't winning Cirrus over as a friend. Then again, had they even really heard the words? Instinct said get the hell out of dodge, and negative words just translated in his ears to more emphasis on those instincts. They took a couple of short, stuttered sidesteps away. It didn't matter what little life experience they might have had, every little voice from that most primordial part of their brain said to flee, only tempered by the part that urged them to get a bit more ground between themselves and the cat before sprinting, just in case they were too tempting a chase. It didn't seem Cirrus was going to respond at all other than, now that their paws had solidly found earth again, to take another slower sidestep away.
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The large feline watched the man back away and raised an eyebrow, making no attempt to stop him from running but also making no move to try and comfort the man. For a moment, he thought about antagonizing the wolf and a small smirk crossed his lips. "Run if you want." His Russian voice was low and dangerous, though a hint of amusement stayed. "Learn your surroundings." He said simply before turning to leave, a light warning in his words. 

He had his fun and now he was done, it was as simple as that. And so, he turned to leave, having no issues with showing his back to the wolf. He had a feeling he had scared the poor creature enough that the man wouldn't even consider raising a claw to him. After all, the large tiger was several hundred pounds more than him.

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There were no fast moves, nothing unmeasured. They didn't want to be chased, they just wanted to slip away unharmed. It wasn't too much to ask, but being around some larger predator was not on their list of things to do. It seemed, though, that perhaps the cat was not hungry. Right now, at least. Cirrus continued to slowly slip backwards and away. Paws were placed carefully, if there was any sign of something that might crunch underpaw, they changed the placement so it wouldn't.

Again, they said nothing, just moved slowly, defensively, and took their time. But once the tiger said his piece (regardless of whether Cirrus was conscious of the words) he turned to leave, which was enough of an opening that Cirrus decided to act. They were a pale flash disappearing into the undergrowth, heading off to lands they'd not yet seen, an ear swiveled behind them to make sure they weren't followed. It would be a while before they stopped.
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