Sleeping Dragon Deuteronomy

Her trail had been old, and missing in many places, but The Hunter was not to be deterred, and his talent as such was not to be taken lightly. Warbone found her mount— a smoky creature with a more volatile power than he thought any of them knew— and he approached it with decided caution. A fire boiled deep in the earth, and he wondered at the mystique's choice of residence. Though the ground was not soft or heated, and the peak was not vibrating in warning, he wasn't a wolf fond of an earthly fixture that resembled his temperament in any way. As steadfast as it was unpredictable.

From a tactician's point of view, he saw the worthiness of the location and the strength of its defenses, despite the uneasy feeling it all gave him. He avoided the geysers, oozing through the areas untouched by scalding water as he made his way to the thick of Thuringwethil's scent— her borders— and he avoided hunting, though the slight edge set to his teeth warranted him to feed. A need that arose when he wished to quell any disquiet with his body. He didn't call for her, instead traveling along the marked line of superior and subordinates, as he wished to survey the length of Drageda borders from the outside (and in peace for as long as he could) before he was found.