Sleeping Dragon her eyes hold thunder and her blood is magma

Dawn only brightens by the moment and by now, he's coming to the logical conclusion of this round of the borderland that had come and gone without fanfare. Now, when his paws turn for the higher territory, he begins to consider what he may occupy himself with next. His attentiveness to their boundaries has served as his primary focus, but even they do not warrant constant surveillance from him. He is not the only one upon them, after all, and at any given hour, he can name a handful of the pack that he'd expect to find there. So, he hikes up and sniffs along until anything catches his attention.

It is with a small hint of curiosity that he finds himself pulling along Thuringwethil's trail, and nothing stops him so he follows through until he spots her upon the ledge. He strides lightly into the valley where they meet. Once closer, he chuffs and defers his posture in full, sweeping his tail softly against the inside of his knees and angling back his ears once his neck is lowered considerably -- something he now reserves for only the leadership of the pack at this time, despite knowing the black bear of a female would relish in seeing him slip.

He may not have precise business to attend to in her company, but he may as well see if she would not be bothered by his. "Heda," he greets more properly.