Moonspear seal team sixty-nine sexecuting the hit

It was a long and difficult journey across the flatlands, what with the earth rocking under their feet and Dragomir feeling like his legs were replaced by wooden broomsticks with no flexibility, but they made it. Or at least Vercingetorix thought they had. It was a mountain and it smelled like other wolves, so it was probably a safe assumption that this was Moonspear, but it wasn't like Aurëwen had stuck around to describe it to them or give them directions. If not, he guessed they would just have to ask if this pack knew where they could find it. He felt shy and nervous as they approached the borders; this was Dragomir's very first border encounter.

That was pretty sad considering he was half a year old, but his life was shit, okay. Who had time for basic lessons?

The high ridges of the mountain masked Hydra's and Lyra's approach until just the dark Alpha herself appeared before them, imperious and confident. Once upon a time, when he was very little, Dragomir had met Stigmata and known the weight of a true leader's gaze upon him. That feeling had radiated out from Stigmata and affected him profoundly, willing him to turn his gaze away and show his respect, despite being too young to really get it then. Hydra carried the same weight with her, causing Dragomir to instinctively pull his ears back, turn his muzzle toward the earth, and flatten his tail against his thighs. He didn't tuck it, he wasn't cowed, but he made sure not to raise it even an inch.

Before Vercingetorix could speak, because Dragomir was feeling nervous and that was bubbling up into word vomit in his throat and he really had no idea of the etiquette behind this, he blurted, is this Moonspear?