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

Dragomir's hackles remained fully flared, even when Arcturus and Dirge spoke and the order to stand down was given. As of yet, these wolves did not control him, but he was wired to heed authority, and both wolves commanded plenty of it. His snarl remained a silent warning on his face for Mal to keep his distance if he knew what was good for him, and his back remained prickled as a porcupine's, but he slunk over to Isilmë's side and stood between her and Mal as she collected what remained of the rabbit and they made to leave.

Dragomir took the opportunity for one last show of how little he respected this manchild's so-called pack: he scraped his feet in the dirt as he turned to depart, depositing his own scent and kicking loam across the ground in Mal's direction. A little like spitting at him, if you would. That done, the boy—fired up by recent transgressions in addition to his ridiculous treatment here, and unappreciative of his instinct to dominate Mal being squashed by Dirge—flagged his tail high in the air and marched away with a muttered indication that he was going to meet up with his father.

Last one from me unless Drago is attacked or something!