Stavanger Bay we are graveyards reaching, with haunted bones

Drogon lets out a contemplative hum as Sunspot tells him how it is: her brother is a good wolf but she no longer wishes to live with him. Fair enough. He can’t begrudge her anything, in truth, but especially not that honesty. Sometimes things work out and sometimes they don’t and it was healthy ( as far as Drogon is concerned ) to take care of yourself first as opposed to suffer for the happiness/desire of someone else. He watches as she rises, gives her coat a hearty shake as if struck by a sudden bought of energy. His ears pivot atop his skull as she asks him what he’s doing all the way out here. It’s a perplexing question to the tundrian because he knows that he does a lot of wandering but it takes him a second to realize that she doesn’t know that. He has to keep moving. Drogon has to keep running but the question remained: was he running from something or to something? It’s answer evades even him.

The ash trees around them creak in the wind that rolls off of the ocean just down the slope of beach. “Mapping the terrain,” He wonders how many more territories he needs to visit before he’s been to them all — unclaimed of course. Mapping the terrain sounds a hell of a lot better than ‘wandering’ and thus it is the answer that the [i]soturi goes with despite that he has no actual interest in becoming a ranger ( at least, not yet ). There is, however, tactical advantage to knowing shortcuts and the length of trips so he does make use of his time as a nomad. One day, this information might be useful. For a moment, Drogon isn’t sure that he’s heard her right. She wanted to join the same pack as him? Him. He can’t help the incredulous furrow of his brows and lowering of his ears for a few seconds before they wash away in a charming grin. Perhaps hearts can change, after all. “Kind of. They’re still trying to form and…” I’m not sure I’m staying. It’s not like he makes a difference either way, in the end.

He doesn’t have much of a reason as to why. There’s nothing personal to drive him to depart. Aside from that he’s gotten used to his freedoms and he’s not ready to cash them in for a life subjugation yet. Not when prey is still plentiful and winter does not breathe down his back like the loom of the reaper. “I don’t weigh their ranks either way as I will still be in the child tier for a few months yet,” Even he forgets at times how young he truly is because he doesn’t feel it. “I will take you to them, if you wish, but as I spend more time out here to my own devices than I do with them I think I may be parting ways relatively soon.” As he’s contributed nothing then he does not deserve to call himself one of them, anyway. “If you wish to travel with me instead, you may.” Drogon offers her because he doesn’t want her to misunderstand his speak of leaving. It has nothing to do with her: so he makes her the offer. If it’s a pack she seeks he will take her to Constantine and if she ( for some reason ) wants his company she can choose to travel with him.