Sleeping Dragon somewhere a bloodmoon hangs in the sky

While the whelping den had undoubtedly grown rather cramped, it remained as the only home Hvit knew, as well as the place that he was most comfortable in. The idea of moving alone had caused for his skin to prickle beneath his fur, and for the pace of his heart to increase. He didn't know where they were to be taken, nor did he really want to know, and so he'd plopped his little butt right down prior to the trek. For as long as he'd been able to the boy had kept his rear end firmly planted on the threshold of the den, defiance scrawled perfectly across his features. Some part of him had expected for them to stay with him, but when he'd realized that they didn't plan to do so, he'd forced his legs to start moving after them. The idea of leaving the only place he'd ever truly familiarized himself with was frightening, but the thought that he might not see his sisters again had been far worse; he was motivated, too, by fantasies of what they might learn without him if he didn't kick himself into gear. Despite all of that, though, he'd still dragged his feet the whole way there.

The moment everyone else had stopped moving his own speed had picked up, carrying him straight towards Gavriel—after his meeting of Rebekka, he'd started viewing the male as a great protector—with the intent of gluing himself to the man's side. He'd acted too late, however, and was quickly left to stand there alone whilst watching his mother and father attend to their own business. An inaudible huff flew past his lips in response to their doings, but after that they'd been given little more attention from him. Rather, he'd headed for Thur instead, stationing himself directly behind her whilst simultaneously working to fight off his growing curiosity.