Phoenix Maplewood and make Death proud to take us

Warbone snorted sharply, almost derisively, as she insinuated he might approach Sleeping Dragon again. The nearest he had come since leaving there was the south end of the river, an occurrence which had been partially the fault of that wild bear of a woman once belonging to her ranks. Even from first being introduced to the sulfuric mountain she now called Drageda, he had not liked it, and he now had less than no reason to return there; the suggestion or even thought that he might was erroneous, and laughably insulting. He didn't take offense, at any rate, and his mouth curved slightly to indicate humor. "I would not dream it," he growled reassuringly, his head canting suddenly as Thuringwethil added that she would like to see him still.

His eye moves across her face, his expression softening somewhat. Despite the many mistakes he'd made in his time with her, there was no part of him that was lost to the feeling she had once given him— the solidarity he had felt hunting with her that first time. He had not enjoyed being a subordinate, ultimately his downfall, but his discord had been forgotten in moments spent solely with her; on emissary trips and the like.

His tail wagged slowly. "If you still have an affection for travel, then I have no doubt we will see one another again." Warbone picked up his head, motioning over his shoulder, towards the Sunsire range. "You can find me there."