Firefly Glen crashing out into the noise

a silence fall and stretches between the two as drogon gives his name upon the coywolf's inquiry ( request? ) and then a name falls from the other's lips; iliksis. drogon's ears cup forth, attentive atop his skull, and twitch to the side as he processes the name, tucking it away to the mental image of the man's face so that he would remember. the ansbjørn doesn't particularly know why it seems useful to remember iliksis only that there is something in his most primal of instincts that encourages him to do so. he's met many lone wolves during his short life thus far and has forgotten many ...but something about this man sets him on an edge. it is minuscule at the moment with no discernible rhyme or reason; but if there's one thing that drogon has come to trust to rely on it's his instincts. he shifts his weight and makes a thoughtful hum in his throat, a soft nearly inaudible sound. "i should probably be heading back." drogon speaks then as if it is a thought that has been weighing on his mind for some time. it is the truth, to some degree. he knows better than to make too many impromptu scouting trips with the very real possibility of war lingering on the delicate knife tip of indecision and the simple fact that if there is to be planning drogon desperately wants to be in the thick of it and is afraid that if he spends too much time away he will miss his chance to put himself on the front lines.