Dragoncrest Cliffs but she got legs up on the dash

preferably someone he hasn't met yet

The little dots down in the sound disturbed him. There were more than just the trio the other day, belying their assertion that it was just a quiet little picnic. Of course, he'd never believed them in the first place--this just sealed the deal. Vercingetorix watched them move around, perched on the edge of the cliffs, lips curled back in a silent snarl.

There was a slim chance that he'd be more amenable to close company if he wasn't coming off the heels of a war. But we're talking hair-thin, '90s model slim. He was hot-blooded, always would be, and territorial with it. Just because he was a jovial man didn't mean he let things slide.

They wouldn't get away with this. Somebody would paint that beach red before winter was over.

He began to prowl the border, and then beyond it, marking copiously. He'd do the same for the sound, but for now, he focused on Drageda's strongest claim. Perhaps an arrangement could be made with the dark-headed woman, but they sure as fuck weren't going to take the cliffs, too. Over his dead, bloated body.