Bearclaw Valley he is the bane of mortals

Alexander Apaata is how the ivory colored male introduces himself to the aspiring ranger. Drogon’s not sure if he has anything of actual value to share with this male: he never discussed at length what he was allowed and not allowed to tell outsiders; and he’s in no position to make any sort of official deals. Drogon figures that the only safe information is the standard description of Moonspear given to those who requested an audience at the borders. “Moonspear, to the south west of here.” Drogon gestures in the general direction he came from with a jab of his muzzle. “This is an unofficial, impromptu scouting trip so I’m not authorized to offer you an alliance or anything of the sort,” Drogon figures it’s better to cover the basics here and now. Probably should have started off with that, he thinks to himself. “but I can give you the basic information in exchange for your basic info. …If you aren’t already familiar with Moonspear.” Drogon has no actual idea how long the pack’s been around but he holds the suspicion that it’s older than he is. Drogon shifts his weight, as he waits to see if Alexander would be willing to exchange or not.