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

It didn't take long for the familiar figure of a wolf to come trotting down the mountainside. She was blessed in deep russet hues, something quite unfamiliar for gentleman who's identity was that of arctic blood, residing in freezing ranges where a pale white coat was the norm. With a curious lift of a metaphorical eyebrow, the fellow let his his tail droop to a more humble level, not caring about the size of this newcomer but responding to her superior air all the same.

"Hi there," he chipped, his focus turned from the rain onto the petite fiery woman. "I'm seeking shelter, or at least some place to rest my tired body," he added, his gaze shifting from her to the rock face as a shadow slid down to join them. From her regal, sylphlike aura, she seemed to be the one reigning the throne of this mount so he directed his next speach towards her dark frame. "I was wondering if perhaps you fellows would be so kind as to take me under your wings?"