Ankyra Sound make a den, build a fire; later, the smoke will taste like plums

It takes a while for the call to be answered and he quietly paces around the general area, wondering if he’d made a mistake. The weakness in borders causes him to wonder if they’d moved on, or if Drageda had come down on him, but there’d been fresh markings every so often during his travel.

When she does emerge, her turns at the sound, ears cupped forward to see the same grumpy face he’d been met with. A smirk forms upon his features and he shifts his posture, only slightly, to stand down to her presence. She doesn’t hold herself much different than before but… there’s something. Dark eyes narrow and he slinks forward but does not come too close. The smell of milk and stale breath comes across to him and his brows lift, questioningly.

“Whatever you want,” he says, flicking his tongue against his teeth. “You.”