Sleeping Dragon somewhere a bloodmoon hangs in the sky

More and more bodies arrived, some with objects in their mouths, and others without. Hvitserk, skeptical of the entire situation still, had not moved from his spot behind Thur. While his eyes were allowed to wander, he'd not stepped forth in order to greet any of the unfamiliar faces, and he'd certainly made no approach towards any of their gifts. His muzzle pointed itself upward when he'd heard his name, however, looking to his former space heater. Nothing else would follow, he'd realized, and so his attention was focused, once more, on someone else—Freyja. For one moment the girl had been at his side, and then the next she was gone, directing herself towards someone he could not remember having ever met. He'd made a move as if he planned to follow her, but a change of course was made before he'd ever reached them, as the presence of someone he knew was noticed.

Poor-shah was there! Hvit hadn't yet formed an opinion about plants, but he knew that he liked the sound of the woman's voice. Thus, it was towards her that he'd gone, moving in a larger arch than necessary so as to avoid the stranger she'd situated herself beside. When he had finally reached her, his little tail wagged and a smile plastered itself across his face, the boy's version of a greeting having been extended.