Sleeping Dragon will it be harvest or a killing storm

Time and again, he notes where Lucani's scent is fading so rapidly away to nothing. Without the healer, matters shift in a subtle way he's never felt it to be as here -- she's been a wolf of this pack since the very start, after all, so it's only to be expected. But he jogs on anyway because there is nothing for him to do to change it, especially not measuring it by the exact extent of the efforts put towards her by the leadership and others. The circumstances that surround it all, even starting at the sudden illness, seem suspicious yet he keeps his nose out of it for now.

It is far more advantageous for someone like him to focus on maintaining their claim, and the defense of their mountain -- especially with tensions rising with the neighbors to the south. Although he does not suspect the Maplewood to be quite so ignorant as to come sniffing blindly around up here, or even bold enough to show their faces in the shadow of their smoldering lands, it spurs a certain sort of satisfaction in knowing that he's ready if they do.

And, as intent as he is on forward momentum, her approach slows him up just a touch so he may grant her a beat of his focus. His nostrils flare and he takes in full sight of her with a small grunt of greeting as his tail flicks upward. She's only becoming more prevalent among the Dragon's ranks by the day, and he's noticed. Her spaces on the boundaries overlapped his often.

He eyes her boldly, but doesn't say anything and keeps his legs moving. He knows she's effective and proud, so he is outright with himself. His head is tall and ears pricked at her questioningly.