The photo he was given was near indiscernible than any other forested grove. There was no defining detail that stood out to his emerald eyes, nothing that told him of its location. The very art of capturing those places Matteo visited was a skill he had clearly mastered. He was certain, at the very least, that their jump between locations was certainly achievable, considering their close proximity and the sheer distance of the places he had thus far teleported to. His shadows billowed towards them from the darkest corners of the room, embracing them in an ever-encroaching fashion before surrounding the two men entirely, only to unfold to reveal the bubbling brook and canopy of trees that cast shadows above them. That spot the pair found themselves within was not precisely where Matteo had requested, the Frenchman but one step from the very banks of the stream an yet, Tetradore was certain it was close enough. After all, they had both arrived at their desired location in one piece. The Were-King's emerald eyes turned inquisitively towards their surroundings, momentarily taken by the idyllic timber he was surrounded by. Like Chambord, there was a certain level of tranquility that seemed to exist only within France, largely thanks to the way Tetradore had romanticized the Chateau.

Matteo's suggestion that he might enjoy venturing through the depths of the wildwood as he feline was certainly...tantalizing to consider. Much less the notion that he might truly be able to hunt, or the taste of venison that he had gone without for so terribly long. His thoughts were pulled away from contemplating that nostalgic taste as Matteo inquired behind his very intentions of their placement within the forest. A soupçon inconsequential lift of his broad shoulders in a shrug was all the response the man provided. His emerald eyes watched the warm simper that tugged at Matteo's features as the Frenchman promised he was more than capable of cooking it particularly well. The suggestion that, perhaps tomorrow they might indulge in such a meat prompted a nod in agreement from the Were. "I'll see what I can do." He promised, wholly intending to see through with such an inkling. For now, however, Tetradore turned his attention to those inquiries of his own human senses. His head shook ever so slightly in response, "No, not as a human. They're probably just a bit better than yours I suspect. Familiar smells, like people...pack, they're easier to find though." His inner feline knew those scents, prompting his senses in turn to be all the more intent upon those then the world at large.

He was, admittedly, inquisitive upon why his faux father had taken such an interest in his feline now. After all the years they had spoken little of the cat he could become, even if Matteo had seen his feline a great many times before. Tetradore's gaze flickered towards that bright ruby scarf that appeared within Matteo's fingertips, only for the Frenchman to tie the piece of cloth to the belt loop in his jeans. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly in a curious fashion as he turned his gaze back towards the fae. The game laid out before him was unanticipated and yet, he could see the immediate benefit of it. The Were-King hardly required those far more taxing training techniques to be presented as a game in the fashion he had as a child, and yet, before he was able to voice even a word of protest, Matteo left him on the far side of the bank with the bubbling river between them. A soft sigh left his lips as his shadows began to swirl to life underfoot, embracing the Were-King's figure with the clear intention of closing the gap between them. Admittedly, he hardly anticipated for that game of chase to end so readily upon his first jump. The sudden disappearance of the Frenchman was unsurprising as Tetradore materialized into existence on the opposite side of the creek.

His emerald eyes scanned the timber that surrounded him. A baffled glimpse crossed Tetradore's features at the blatant absence of his father's figure. He doubted, truly, that Matteo would have merely left him in the forest to his own devices. Though Tetradore was hardly incapable of navigating those woods - where would be the game in that abandonment? A small frown tugged at the corner of his features before an inclination crossed his thoughts. Tetradore reached up, peeling the cotton shirt from his frame to reveal his caramel skin. He reached for the button on his jeans, letting them fall with his undergarments with little care for modesty. It was certainly not the first time Matteo had seen all of him. He hardly paused in that shift all the same as the wolf whistle filled the forest, readily reassuring Tetradore of what he had known all along - Matteo was close. He rolled his emerald eyes, the action surely unnoticed as his bones began to snap and contort, shortening and lengthening till the human figure was replaced with the ebony jungle cat. Tetradore stretched out his lanky feline figure, his jaws parted in a yawn as his ears turned upon his head, listening to the world that surrounded him.

It hardly took long before his vibrant gaze turned upwards, only to eye the Frenchman in the tree above him. A chuff left the panther's parted jaws as he slowly meandered towards the trunk of those large overhanging branches, entirely content to circle the three in a rare glimpse of dramatization. After all, he hadn't anticipated that he might tree his faux father when he was pulled disgruntledly from his bedsheets this morning. His front paws rested upon the trunk of the tree, stretching out his long body further before the feline's sharp claws dug into the bark, those shadows quickly embraced his ebony frame as the feline launched himself upwards, clearly intending to scale its massive trunk. He reappeared at the very height of the French fae, stepping with ease off of the trunk of the tree and onto the limb. His balance was near impeccable as the were-feline prowled forward, his feet place with such instinctive care and yet his emerald eyes never once left the French fae in front of him. He was entirely content to stalk his father as they moved further out from the base of the tree.

The flattery the Were-King was given caused his jaws to part, his vocal cords reverberating in an almost innocent 'meow'. His decision to revel in the complex dance between the Frenchman and himself were, naturally, performed upon the man's own terms. His feline figure provided him with far more advantages than his mortal skin, even if it was at the deprivation of those quips he might have so expeditiously thrown back at Matteo. He was, admittedly, particularly astute to just how narrow the branch had gotten, a part of the panther almost apprehensive for the safety of his father as he pressed forward all the same. The foreign lit to the fae's lyrics drew his intensely vibrant eyes upwards, that questioning glimpse surely mirrored in the depths of his irises and yet, Tetradore hardly had to wait long before he was offered an explanation. The springing of the limb caused his own claws to near immediately dig into the branch, the Were-King acting near instinctually. His shadows so quickly rushed to his aide, Tetradore hardly desired to cling to the trees balanced so delicately above the expanse of the forest floor.

The feline landed safely upon the soil of the forest, the leaves crunching underfoot and yet, Tetradore hardly had a chance to regain his composure before a hand reached out for his neck. How long had it been since the feline had been scruffed?!?! A yelp of surprise left the feline's jaws and yet, he hardly anticipated to find himself, a moment's later, falling in the sky. That rush of vertigo made his stomach nauseated before his body's natural instincts kicked in, prompting the feline to twist in mid-air so his paws were pointe towards the ground, splayed out though they were. The wind whizzed past his sensitive ears, filling them with far more of an abrasive sound than Tetradore was willing to admit before his emerald gaze landed upon the lackadaisical form of the Frenchman. He could hardly help the look of near ultimate betrayal that filled his irises at that very moment. His ears flicked but slightly at the sound of Matteo's voice and yet, that scowl upon his features was plain enough to see. This, apparently, was a lesson he was ill-inclined to repeat. The crimson scarf was, admittedly, the very last thought upon the Alpha's mind as Tetradore so reached for his own gift. Though he knew well his ability to land upon that ground that so swiftly rushed up to meet them, Tetradore was certain that falling from such a height would cause near CATastrophic damage to his frame nonetheless. He reached for his own gift at that moment, those shadows struggling to race to his frame as the sheer speed of that gravity so threw his own control for such a gift awry. He could hardly help those very beginning tendrils of panic that clutched at him as Tetradore called more forcefully to his power, his affinity catching up in those precious moments just before the canopy of trees to envelope his falling figure.

The Were-King appeared once again upon the forest floor where they had initially started, far more ecstatic than he expected to have solid ground beneath his feet. His claws momentarily dug at the earth, as if reassuring himself that it was actually there before the Were-King's emerald eyes turned back towards the forest that surrounded him, his entire frame tense with apprehension. After all, there was still a game afoot and a scarf to be won and now, Tetradore was left uncertain as to what to expect.

aiden tetradore