Ravensblood Forest Looking for a fight?

The ravens were Drogon’s first indication that he wasn’t the only predator prowling through the forest. Their shrill calls rise through the forest, shattering the silence as Drogon rests beneath the shade of a giant sequoia: the king sequoia. There is a raven that has particularly taken a liking to him: he thinks she is young but in truth he doesn’t know. She’s a stubborn beast that keeps bringing him scraps of things: a mouse, once. A squirrel tail. Gifts? Or her attempts at feeding him? Regardless of how many times he shoos her off, snapping his teeth at her she refuses to travel further than a branch overhead and more oft than not stares at him in an indignant manner that he finds begrudgingly admirable. The grump tundrian has already decided that the first time she relieves herself on him he’s going to eat her and has told her as much. If she’d heard or even understood he doesn’t know. She just cocked her head and stared at him with a beady black eye, the feathers of her chest puffing in a silent huff before she went about …whatever she was doing.

For the most part, she’s a quiet companion and Drogon supposes he can’t much complain. Her screaming caw causes him to cringe but he rises to his paws, hackles bristling along his spine as a figure shrugs through the underbrush and Drogon finds himself face to face with another male. The man’s pelage is a dark chocolate with black mask ( and other markings ) and silver grey eyes; tall and confident. A pack wolf, Drogon knows. A pack scent that reminds him instantly of the young merle girl, Lavender, he helped find rocks with and her father whom had loomed like an overseer. As if Drogon was going to hurt a little girl. “You’re a long way from home.” The tundrian draws, though Lavender’s pack had been on the move when he’d came across her and, in truth, Drogon has no idea where they had eventually came to settle. It wasn’t meant to be an accurate statement anyway, it was meant to subtly inform that he knew the stranger’s pack scent, whilst warning that he might wish to tread with caution in this forest for the shadow runner (Constantine) has begun to stake his claim it.