Moonspear be devout to hunger, child

Drogon makes a contemplative noise in his throat at her words, acknowledging them with a curt nod to signify that he knows she’s right. Yet, he does not tell her that all he’s good at is war. Fighting, causing trouble, finding trouble. That he’s good at being selfish, lying, manipulating and ambitious and …very little else. This makes him just like the Blackfeather wolves but he doesn’t say that, either. Drogon realizes he doesn’t want to ruin the perception of him that Wraen has. He doesn’t want to shatter it with the truth because he likes the attention that she’s showering upon him. He feels like he can be more honest with Hydra, feels like she would understand but Wraen eludes this innocence that he wants to protect. She tells him — with a wink that he finds oddly endearing — to not be afraid and take the path bravely. His lips part suddenly, drawing in a breath in preparation of expelling ‘I’m not afraid’ briskly but chokes on the words and closes his mouth with a resounding click of his teeth. It’s a knee-jerk reaction: to protest with those words automatically. This time, however, he doesn’t. Perhaps it’s not true no matter how many times he protests it. Maybe he is afraid.

Maybe that fear isn’t a bad thing.

His chosen path will only lead him to an early grave: the reckless abandon in which he fights. It’s a fool’s path. Drogon understands that he needs to fight smarter: to pick his battles and to acknowledge that he doesn’t need to win every battle. That each, win or lose, will lend it’s own amount of wisdom and growth. “Maybe I’ll try to be that hero.” He finally speaks, swallowing thickly. He has a feeling that it’s going to be a long and arduous path and maybe he’ll fail but he won’t know unless he tries.

Drogon’s ears perk at Wraen’s question, a smirk growing upon his muzzle as he swears he hears her stomach rumble. He can’t help but feel that asking him if he is hungry is like asking him if he’s ready for a fight: which is, essentially, always a yes. He’s a growing boy, after all. He doesn’t act like it ( well …sometimes he does ) but he is and he could eat all day long if he knew it wouldn’t make him sick ( or if he wouldn’t potentially eat himself to death ). “I could go for some food.” He responds, which was really a sly way of saying “I’m always hungry” without sounding like some sort of ravenous beast. “If course I will.” He accepts her invitation speaking as if he’s appalled that she thought he would refuse ( and truth be told he kind of was ). “Ladies first.” He gestures her to take the lead in their tracking of, presumably a deer as she stated that was what she was truly hungry for …and what kind of gentleman would be to deny the lady her wish?