Qeya River Vatican City

Taking a breath to calm himself down, he noticed he was glad that the one agreed with him. Happy to be back on the stable land. Never again would he do something ridiculous. That is, until he sees another frozen lake, and nearly kills himself once more. 

As Anwyl headed back along the river, Goliath quickly followed. Anwyl paid a lot of attention to every detail, he noticed, as if he was either extremely worried, or just extremely curious. If he had to guess the nature of this wolf, it would be curious. Either way, he did save Goliath when he noticed the density of the ice sheet. So that helped a ton. As they were walking, the male asked him a rather touchy question.

If anything, he never knew where he came from. His original pack was that of nomadic barbarians - traversing without settling in a single position. When it would become too cold, they headed south. When it would become too warm, they headed north. Never was it the same den. The only thing that stayed the same would be the genocidal warpath they began once they met encountered anything that was not them.

Either way, he would guess the wolf meant the pack he was in currently, and calmly told him. Goliath from Sleeping Dreh-gohn. he said, before realizing he pronounced it incorrectly. He repeated the name several times until he got the hang of it. Dreygon? No, Drahgon... Dragon, yes, Dragon.