Sleeping Dragon Crackjaw

Phoenix slowed as another wolf materialized in his sights. It was a slight-looking thing, when compared to himself, with a slim, lissome frame that was neither distinctly masculine or feminine at his distance. His muzzle wrinkled, trying to discern any information he could of the stranger through scent, but found his sense of smell hampered by the smoking mountain. He knew he needed to get closer, so he padded forward to investigate without much apprehension.

Before he'd come near enough to announce himself, the unknown wolf was suddenly overcome by an allergic fit, sneezing until his nose felt like it had expelled the irritant. The red-earred yearling hung back a moment, posed with a single forepaw dangling, before deciding to announce himself. "You got some brain on that rock there," Phoenix teased flatly, motioning towards some snot-covered pebbles at the wolf's feet. "You alright?"