Sleeping Dragon Deuteronomy

His eyes flashed at her command, his body moving first without his thoughts confirming the action. The Hunter crossed the Stygian queen's threshold, bending to brush his nose briefly across the definitive tracks made there by herself and her wolves. He caught many scents not hers, and committed them to memory. His packmates. It had been a while since he had considered any wolf a mate of his, in any fashion. And though Thuringwethil was young, Warbone saw more to her than he had anyone else in crossing these lands. She could benefit from him too, a wolf overly versed in the laws of survival, settled starkly into the figure of a male within the range of his intense prime.

His steps slowed as he took to her side, his head held low, level with the blades of his shoulder. Warbone snorted, swinging his head as he turned his teeth, in friendly acquiescence, towards her lean shoulder, fondly pulling the guard hairs there as he silently urged her to take him into the thick of her lands.