Northstar Vale boogie woogie down with your funky feet

Dragon was not a close-quarters kind of wolf especially among strangers, and it required a conscious effort for him not to tense his muscles and whisk away on quick paws, especially as the pack crowded in and the female got up close and personal with his dingleberries. The wolf who sat on his head was the least of his concerns; it's not like that ass was going to crush him, bite him, or castrate him. He hardly moved, enduring the inspection patiently, except to beat his tail across the ground and continue to make it apparent that he was not threatening. He might have turned his cheek into the snow, but... there was a wolf on his head.