Lost Creek Hollow it's the king's turn

For @Root ! c:

It was cold, which was an extremely obvious conclusion for the dragon to make considering winter had finally hit the Wilds shortly before his arrival; but it was the first thing he'd thought when he crawled out of his den and was hit by the chilling and biting air that seemed to seep through the coarse winter coat he'd grown and seep into his warm flesh and into the very marrow of his bones. It stung where it kissed his warm, leathery black nose until he numbed to it. Cold it might have been but at least, for the time being anyhow, it had ceased to snow. This was not technically Lagon's first winter for he'd been born in winter last year but even so he wasn't a mega fan of it. The winters in Naga Veil Forest had been mild in comparison thus far to winter in the Teekon. Yet, it'd only begun and there was a long couple of months ahead of them yet.

There was no real, logical reason for his dislike of winter aside from the fact that he didn't enjoy feeling like he was turning into a poochsicle (but if he was turning into a poochsicle and he had a choice his flavor would be blue raspberry with frozen custard in the middle). Despite how good he'd taste as a poochsicle he had no real intentions of succumbing to hypothermia. It might have been better if he roomed with a pack mate to share and conserve body heat like he would have done with his siblings. While Lagon enjoyed the certain degree of freedom and order to his horde (albeit small as it was) of bones, a few colored rocks and pieces of antlers he'd found it was sort of lonely and he kind of missed having some disorder to his collection and it's arrangement (safely tucked away) at the back of his den.

It was only after an assessment and a stretch (followed closely by a yawn) was given did Lagon head off towards the borders to run a patrol, knowing that the activity would keep him warm and that it would bring him a step closer to earning the mercenary trade he had his eye on.