Neverwinter Forest painted the hunger onto my skin

Drogon gives her a nod of understanding when Miyako tells him that she isn’t sure yet where she’s heading, answering as he expects her to. He’s never been real sure where he’s heading either and he’s grown rather accustomed to being his own commander and enforcer; and isn’t so sure what will happen when he surrenders that power and freedom to someone older and more experienced than him. It’s not anything that he would let go of without leaving scars in the wake of prying it from betwixt his claws ( but the pressing issue of winter is proving to be rather good at tug-o-war ). He glimpses around at them again as she states that this is new to her: that she grew up near the sea. He’s been to the sea and though it’s alright ( he’s not a fan of sand ) he struggles to find the appeal in living close to it but does not give voice to that curiosity.

“It’s sort of my rule of thumb not to stay in one place for too long.” He means neutral territories but realizes how that might be problematic when he does look to relinquish his freedoms to an alpha and pack. At first, it’d been his desire to put as much distance and mask as much of his scent from Blackfeather Woods as he could but it has been a month, maybe even two and there has not been hide nor hair of them. He hasn’t forgotten about them, of course, but they are barely a ghost of a thought in his head these days.