Giant and otherwise peaceful, Titan moves on sure feet. He knows kin is here, here in this pack by the sea. The Black Dragon line was one known to the wolves of Moladion - but he was not so sure that Weylin would recognize his great uncle when he smelled him. What was good is that Titan was too steady a beast to fall prey to Alpha-Types of the Dragon line - proof given by his being alive at all. Fifteen long years under the rule of his father and mother and now he had finally found a time when he was no longer needed. Past his peak yet not past his prime, he comes with head low slung and back slightly hunched, walking to a place that is near but not too near the pup and she-wolf watching from the hidey shade of the bushes.

               He sees the strong pack, scent made of wood and salty sea, as they savage the big brute of a beast on the shore. He is glad to remain yet unseen, too many teeth being too much for even this large male. The one that comes around with a hind flipper in his mouth stops him dead in his tracks, making him crouch even though he knows that Weylin cannot yet see him. The black beast looks at the boy who stands with the she-wolf then and places the large flopping thing on the earth before lunging past other wolves to rip and tear so that the end result is a popping noise and the head of the prey in his mouth.

               He looks at the she-wolf, the nanny, and puts his ears to the side - his deep voice rumbling. "Is there room for strangers needing a home at this feast?"