Deepwood Weald you will never be satisfied

Drogon watches as she acknowledges his presence, her muzzle lifting from the water she’d been drinking from upon his arrival. She is of a medium height but robust in her build, agouti color of cedar and black with scars littering her forearms muzzle. The tundrian thinks — for the briefest of moments — that she looks as if she’s been through a war; and then further wonders how he would look to her if she knew he was aiming for warrior: unscathed and untouched by the echoes of marred flesh. Probably like the green boy that he was. He does not stare long at her scars, averting his eyes and allowing his glacial gaze to settle upon her in general, not focusing on any particular part. Drogon’s ears swivel atop his skull as he watches her frown and the apprehensive twitch of her tail seconds before her lips part to tell him that she has no food. He own lips tug into a pensive frown.

Even if she did he wasn’t about to steal it. For all of his juvenile delinquent-ness he’d never once considered stealing food from another lone wolf. Though that was the nature of the beast and if push came to shove Drogon was enough of an asshole to do it, for sure, but it wasn’t anything he’d ever thought of. Wouldn’t have ever been anything he would plan in advance ( though it occurs to him that perhaps she hadn’t necessarily implied stealing anything and was simply stating the facts: she had no food, period and that he just jumped to the worse possible conclusion ). Drogon gives his head a slight shake, his lips parting to speak “I’m not hungry.” which was true. He’d eaten a filling breakfast before he’d left Moonspear — a delightful con of being a pack wolf: he never had to worry about where his next meal was going to come from and if it would even come at all.

“I was tracking an elk herd before they took refuge in the Weald and I lost them,” He explains, salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls. “It’s a rather small herd: three cows and one bull. You haven’t seen or scented them by any chance, have you?” Clearly, his tracking skills need further improvement but as they are not his primary focus at the moment trade wise they’ve taken an ( unfortunate ) back-burner. Drogon puts forth his inquiry but he won't be terribly fussed if he's lost the herd for the moment: no doubt they will crop back up or another would migrate close to Moonspear's territory and take it's place.