Sleeping Dragon somewhere a bloodmoon hangs in the sky

It took him a bit longer to join the gathering, but at the sound of Heda’s howl, he sought the most manageable fallen piece of tree he could find so that the puppies would have something other than his toes to chew on. It was almost a metre long and perhaps four centimetres in diameter at its thickest points. It would do just fine. Clutching it in its middle, Toxochelys tore off, loping with thumping paws towards the rendezvous site. It would be the first time he interacted with the youngest of the clan.
 
When he finally arrived, he hung back, planting his powerful haunches on the ground with his forelegs splayed slightly. He placed the large piece of tree branch just in front of his paws, then waited to see if the puppies would react to him and the plaything he had brought. Once he had settled, he dipped his nose to both parents and Thuringwethil in turn, but remained where he was to let the tiny dragons acquaint themselves with his presence. Among the adults was a fiery red face he had not seen previously, and from afar, he studied her.