Sleeping Dragon When you're stuck on a skybridge with your worst enemy

@Thuringwethil and/or @Wildfire :)

Rain pattered down lightly through the thinning canopy as a white figure strolled beneath their humming boughs, not seeming to mind the droplets as they gently peppered his pelt. Though it wasn't to say he was completely ignoring the weather. it was making the ground under paw particularly unpleasant as he strode onwards and he was glad when the rocky silhouette of a slope began to come into view. There was a definite sense of autumn as he paused at the foot of the climb; the light summer rain beginning to morph into heavier showers as the nights grew longer and the days seemed to fade away. Nevertheless, the snows were still a long way off.

With his plumed tassel swaying from side to side, his nostrils flared as a pungent scent filled his glands; one of smoke and of hail and sleet, a very strange thing indeed. His head was tilted to one side as his honeyed gaze travelled up the rise and he raised his muzzle to the skies, his melodic cry wavering through the pines and up through the crags before the last traces of his song fell prey to the wind. Perhaps these fellows could offer him shelter, somewhere to rest his tired paws after his journey south from the northern lands.