Supple muscle bobs and weaves through the jungle at cheetah pace, dark obtrusive snout diveing through the leaves of the undergrowth as his pelt is revealed through the spotted undergrowth. Ament is restless, fickle creature made to destroy and rend. Large snapping teeth chattering away contently as he runs through the forest. It is only him- him and his surveying of his land- this hunt to weed out intruders and pick apart his typhooner's from the strangers who would to them harm- most notoriously the pitt.

The sent of blood is fimiluar, like the perdior of the sea that cannot turn around he follows it ruthlessly, senses all turned to hunt out the weak- to draw the sweet honey nectar of living beings with his claws-jaws. Crippling prey and preditor alike until they are nothing but food

But ament is not hunting.

The smell of the sea- salt tinged breze blows agitation into him, the typhoon claim this crippled one. Got to it before him- before he could take it. He can hear them chattering together three of his own marveling over what to do to the stranger. Ament is annoyed, but not truly angry- no he just wants to understand. The strange one- the new one is crippled- is hurt and yet still they welcome him? With open arms? With open "heart"?

ament does not understand.

He steps closer, out of hiding the large apex predictor does not hesitate, but he slows. Giving his typhooners time to see him before he attempts to move them aside. Chuffing slightly as he goes. This new one- is now going to be a typhooner, and ament want a good look at it before so. Wants to see what kind of animal- wolf. Wants to see what it'll do- how it will react to the land's gods. Raptor kind- the venadi kind are all gods. and they claim this land, claim these people. If one is welcomed- ament knows he must welcome it in his own way. and see if it will be of use to him or just another one to later blend in the crowd- the legion of predictors on this land.

Ament knows that when an animal is injured, it tends to fight back with more willful intentions to survive then, and he does not try to seem forceful, a low purring deep inside his throat as he butt's Marco's side in attempt to get him up softly. But ament is large, towering even. Not full height as he will be but he towers over wolves now, three and a half feet and still growing. The move is awkward and may seem a little bit too forceful, when he pulls back he looks the other in the eye and blinks slow, the purr coming out falling out of tandem before stopping all together. Crest raised in question as he nudges them again. up upup!.

//lmao feral raptor over here trying to welcome you! Welcome to the salty crew! ^^

ament does not do mercy, he does damage. It is not mercy that keeps his typoon alive, it is the beast's patince- his want in understanding, and his sisters good graces. Mother has attempted to teach them that this group was made to protect one another, hunt for each other and thrive together- and not to eat them.  Built of preditors so closely packed it is a miricale that none have hurt each other. Their own insticts must be driving them mad now and ament wants to know why. Wants to know if these typoon have found a way to shut off the calling, and why they would. Fulfilling his insticts is holy- right. Running with his pack and preening together, tandem his pack is locked in causing carnage together- everything done together despite their ability to shine alone, they are a beacon of divinity - unity. Together-ness. it was the vens choice in regards  to this "super pack", and in the end, the gods that they are- unified in all great things, choose to claim  it as theirs.

Unholy, this group would surly have failed without their protection, because if otherwise not protected these lands would fall prey to his wraith, and all it's creatures dead in his wake. And mother would be sad, and ament does not wish to see him sad. So they remain, amung the island that is the vens their home: they remain.

This great pack that the venadi has adopted do not think highly of them, and this is fine. Of things these creatures do not understand derrives fear and in turn distaste, but not to ament. Only a wish to understand and the beast is not merciful, but tolerant. Not kind but resolute in his paitence. The healer hisses words he cannot understand and the raptor only let's out a delighted chatter at the response. As if the barrier of tongues does not stop him. He will permit this one close, it smells of plants and remedies and his new one is hurt.

A pleased thrill escapes his jaws as the other rises, and ament feels pleased that he has communicated with the new one. His new one, he decides. With a nod the raptor would have gone plainly away, to leave the typhoon to take care of it's new member. But the trees rustle and a false god rises in their mist. Ament's hakels rise as a low pur escapes him, but this time it is not friendly. Owen is not of the ven, not of his kind but claims it all the same. Dark blue eyes narrow and his crest lowers to his skull, head bowed. Owen commands another pack, weak in standing weak in general. They are not like his sisters and him, and it is not because of understanding he distatse but because of it. Raptors who follow only insticts follow an alpha without it is wrong. Ament's feels wraith bubble in his gut as he stands tall, one arm streatched to cover over his new one and purr louder. Sounding more like a growl of a wolf protecting it's offspring.

"the new one is mine, you cannot have it!" ament's speaks out, his words uncomprehensiable to the rest but Owen should know the most of it, if not the click of the repeated "mine, mine mine!" is clear enough for the 'raptor tamer'