Bitterroot Valley and i saw nothing here but you

No matter the itch of adventure, Kratos never wanders far; he keeps close enough—often haunting old trails of Zephyr that lay in his path. The ice wraith slipping through his fingers, yet he knows if they truly desire to meet each other, they will. They often do by the end of the night.
The call is new, however, and it sets the dragon aflame. Lumbering bulk bolts forth—a ballista. Akin to the bull, his head lowers, broad shoulders a shield of flesh and bone. His gallop slows when he spots the king, drawing up towards him how a dragon would admire it’s treasure—inspecting every part for damage or disturbance.