Sleeping Dragon strik-skyplei

It has been some time since Seregryn has seen Gavriel, but he has likely been busy aiding their leader. She remembers having him at her beck and call (mostly because he would not leave her side as they traveled), and a part of her misses that. As he drifts closer, Seregryn takes a step over her tiny prize as if to guard it, but then reaches towards him with her dark face — investigating the scents housed among his fur. He smells like sulfur, like a Dragon, but also of other wolves and places. Had he been traveling? This thought makes her recoil slightly, her ears forward-facing abruptly, but she does not ask.

Then, she withdraws the protective limb from across the tiny bird and seeks it with her dark maw. Seregryn grabs the creature — unsure if it is dead or stunned, but it does not matter — and it fits snugly like a small tennis ball between her teeth. She is tempted to bike down hard and see if the bird would pop, or crunch, or simply slip down her throat without issue; instead though, Seregryn tosses it up and bups it with her nose, sending it flying towards Gavriel in a rare moment of play.