Moonspear take it back high

skipping hydra with permission. :-)

A third one to look like Hydra arrives upon the scene with a greeting to Hydra. He is ignored but takes in her appearance while the small chance is his to take and comes to the realization that there is not just two but three of them and they are identical: even down to the notch in their ears. If this goes well, he’s going to have to find a way to remember them individually otherwise he runs the risk of accidentally calling them by the wrong names; but he does not fret nor worry about this. A male approaches the scene, his pelage a snowy white and bearing freckled markings. “Yes,” Drogon responds to Charon honestly: he recalls Potema even without the physical description that is offered. He is slightly startled by Charon’s jump to the conclusion that he’d been apart of Blackfeather Woods ( despite that he is not wrong ) but brushes it off as thinking that it may be more obvious than he’d thought. After all, anyone who knows anything about Blackfeather Woods knows that they are a sly and secretive bunch and their secrecy is of the utmost importance to them. He thinks it is cowardly; but that is just a difference in opinions.

“I don’t believe in their ways, their gods, or their belief that once a wolf is no longer useful for Blackfeather's purposes that their life no longer matters and is forfeit.” Not that Drogon could ever believe in such a thing as a deity. It sounds utterly preposterous to him: a convenient way of making one’s own self feel better about things, as far as he cares to see it. “He never gave me his name,” Something that Drogon sees now he should have pressed for. It doesn’t really matter. The Ansbjørn would recognize him anywhere. “…we didn’t exactly get along well so our only conversation was not very typical.” That was a bit of an understatement. Drogon’s way of being humble, more or less. Name didn’t matter. Dragon is sure as the sun will rise that as soon as a description is given that the wolves of the Woods know exactly whom they mean. The question was: to what lengths would they go to protect him?

Hydra’s mother speaks then, claiming the tundrian’s attention with a pivot of his ears atop his skull and the shift of his gaze, kept low out of respect as it was when he’d responded to whom Drogon assumed was Hydra’s father. “I have earned my mercenary trade a few months ago, and I am close to earning my warrior speciality. Tactician is slower going but I work on it when I can.” He pauses and counts back the months he’s been away from Blackfeather Woods. “Two months, borderlining three. I’ve had companions on and off though. Was lucky enough to find hunting partners to take down big game once or twice.” She addresses the male then, and Dragon falls silent, gaze flickering between the two as he awaits more questions or his verdict: whichever was to come first.