The Sentinels Dragonsreach

Earth scorched by fire breath, the Bull stares at the remains of once giant trees now turned tonal charred husks. Ash still lingers, blowing softly in the ocean breeze. The crashing of waves rocks in the distance, with the eerie creak of the Sentinels every once in awhile. It is interesting, to say the least. Nature has a way of destruction; no wolf could conquer land the way it does. His amber eyes roam over the ashen trees, as if admiring the work done to them. His massive paws strike the ground in rhythm, marching to a silent beat as he twists through the maze of the burnt forest. Eventually, the Bull comes across a fallen log. He needn't look too far in, still along the coastal edge. He approaches nonetheless, and lifts his forelegs over the massive trunk. The Bull presses down; satisfied as it breaks underneath him. His ears twitch at the splintering sound, echoing across the Sentinels.