Silvertip Mountain after dark

It was only because she saw it coming that she did not instinctively retaliate with peeled lips and snapping jaws; she remained still, knowing that she likely would not even be moved by the other due to her own impressive stature and girth alike. She was correct, and internally snickered as the other stumbled; her tail swept upward and she shifted her weight as her eyes remained upon her adversary, her packmate, her subordinate, and when she was sure that there was no cause for alarm (that her companion had not harmed itself or bruised its ego), she was ready to move on. Her eyes swept the horizon for sign of Skyfall, but she was sure he would eventually show. Tonravik had tested him similarly, independently; it would be fine to do so now with Toothless, but she wondered if he would work well with the young male. Time would tell, and time would bring them to a cohesive unit that would only grow.

Tonravik observed the change in Toothless and felt herself grow giddy with the transformation. A hot breath expelled from her nostrils loudly as her ears swiveled atop her head, and she took a step forward, to encourage. Show me. Tonravik could speak as well as any could, though her words were none so smooth as her primary language, the language that her body could express; she was so articulate that there were few questions ever asked about her own intentions.

Eagerly, she waits, patient; there was a reason their paths had crossed, a reason that this wolf on its lonesome had survived. Tonravik was sure its stealth was a large part of it, but it was not as starved as most could be, ought to be; licking her chops, she looks to the distance, prepared now to be on the others tail, to follow him and see yet another thing he would offer to the well being of pack.