The Sentinels but it is one thing to read about dragons and another to meet them

despite being mostly burnt there was enough new growth to attract the deer and being in the height of their rut there was no shortage of them haunting the sentinels. their shrill calls echo out like ghostly wails, each call sending a small shiver up the tundrian’s spine. wintersbane decided when he first began to lay claim to the bay that the sentinels would be treated as an extension of ironclan’s claim as their primary hunting grounds — he told hua as much because despite her insistence that they could share the sealion shores so long as they didn’t hunt too much and decrease the population too drastically he isn’t too keen on relying on sealion flubber to fill his belly.

he keeps a watchful eye upon the sentinels, often veering off of his patrols to track the small herds that call it home. he cannot necessarily keep strangers out of the sentinels but he could chase them off for encroaching on hunting territory but so long as it wasn’t a pack looking to lay claim to it then he saw no reason to be incorrigibly prickly about it.

the scent of a loner catches his attention, mingling in the musk of ungulate and he pauses in his tracking of the herd to follow the relatively fresh trail laid by the stranger instead. long strides have him catching up soon enough and the stranger comes into view, reminding him of moor but knowing by scent and masculine build that it wasn’t her.

wintersbane lets out a low chuff to announce his presence before he shrugs out of the young underbrush.

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