Dragoncrest Cliffs it is my intention

while his wandering had been idle, it appears that others were not; though the heavy scents of the pack whose borders he kept a respectful distance from are deep. rich. like the scents that clung to the earth of maeras island; established long ago.

he drinks the scents in with a flare of black, leathery nostrils finding nothing familiar within them — though this was expectant. the island wolves were seafarers by nature but they were, for the most part, surprisingly rooted.

still, stories passed from father, from grandmother spoke of these wilds as if they were some treasure to be found; an endless bounty, golden gilded sparking the interest of any scallywag pup with the stars in their eyes.

such as rhaegal himself.

he lingers for a second long before tipping his head back and letting out a howl, announcing his presence for any that were nearby.