Redtail Rise onyx

Suddenly, the scene shifted. From his distant post, it looked to Cambria like Ulfhedinn and Berserkr were about to fight one another. His pale brow furrowed. It didn’t make any sense to him. Were they battling over the red she-wolf? His mismatched eyes skirted to her, noting the way she ushered the angry pup away from the confrontation.

Cambria looked around as if hoping someone would explain this situation, though of course he was alone. Everyone else in the pack was down there, excepting the white she-wolf and her matching offspring. The Dragonling sucked in a breath upon this realization and suddenly thundered down the slope.

He galloped swiftly toward the pack, slowing as he came upon them and tried to assess the the situation now that he was closer. Cambria’s eyes bounced uncertainly from face to face, trying to read them. He stared at Berserkr longest, wishing he wasn’t too preoccupied to commentate the goings-on here. Finally, he sidled toward Treow.

What’s going on here? he asked, well aware she wouldn’t provide a verbal answer.

His hackles prickled warily as he eyed the standoff, then peered into Treow’s face. She didn’t appear upset. Her expression betrayed patient curiosity. Cambria could feel her tail stirring the air and when he glanced backward, he saw the tip twitching inquisitively. He let out a breath, still baffled by this ritual, but reassured by his fellow yearling’s mood.

As his nerves settled somewhat, he divided his attention between the altercation and the little red pup standing on the far side of the proverbial boxing ring.