Neverwinter Forest You can hide underneath me and come out at night

Dragomir's attention was focused on the rabbit, but that didn't mean he was totally oblivious to his surroundings. Anxiety was his constant companion nowadays and that also meant hyper-vigilance, even when it was uncalled for. Isilmë could get away with following him from a distance, but he heard Mal's paws before his voice. By the time he spoke, Dragomir's hackles were already lifted. Ordinarily he wasn't one for defensive displays, but desperate times called for desperate measures and all that. He was hungry, he'd just had the worst news of his life dropped on him, and his legs hurt. He was in no mood for company.

Especially because this company seemed to think the forest was his turf. The boy's eyes flicked up to ensure the encroaching stranger wasn't Merrick, and when he saw it was someone unfamiliar, Dragomir opted to ignore the warning. A wolf on their own had no claim to anything but the food in their mouth. Even the most confident of wolves couldn't hope to hold any territory on their own. It was simply impossible.

Besides, Dragomir had back-up in the form of Isilmë. That was kind of a fluke, but it emboldened him even more than his roiling emotions already did. For the first time ever he had the unwise notion that picking a fight might be the only way to settle the rage he felt—he was wrong, but he didn't need to know that. The juvenile straightened up, licking his chops, and passed his sister a silent look that begged her to eat as well. And just in case Mal got any funny ideas, Dragomir stood at his full height and growled low in his throat, warning the merle wolf away from their meager meal. You have no pack, he noted pointedly, as if to say, you and what army?