The wolves that had come from my fallen allies packs came in all shapes as sizes. Young wolves seeking haven from a new leader they feared, strong wolves who would not submit to a ruler they did not respect. There were those trained in the art of battle, and others more proficient in hunting. Spirane’s ranks had grown, and each wolf who had come to call the mountains home offered something to better the pack. Even the young Myra, deaf and unable to speak, brought a light to the pack that only youthful innocence could. My young dragons had found new playmates, and the mountain had earned a vibrant storyteller. Not every wolf that had come in the recent months had been a result of Rhae or Tesseract’s defeat. I was proud of my pack, so strong and vivacious. Soon I would call them all together, so that we might celebrate such good company.

Today, however, the gravelly baritone of a stranger’s voice sang out to me. He greeted the pack, and called upon us; it was an invitation to come and meet him. My reply came in the form of flowing alto tone, rising strong in the morning air, a pleasant greeting and a promise that soon we would meet face to face. Pristine paw prints were left in my wake, a light snowfall overnight having filled in many of the regular trails taken here and there by my pack. It mattered not, for I knew my home well, and I made my way with the ease of one crossing a flat plain of grass. Of course every once in a while even I could not predict that ability of the snow to hold my weight, and a leg would sink deep into an embankment. Still, I made reasonable time as I descended into the foothills where the borderlines of my realm were clearly marked by my scent and the trodden trails of scouts patrolling. Even if their paw prints were hidden by the snow, their aroma was evident, though not half so strong as mine.

He came into view as I crested a sweeping knoll, coming up between two trees as I glanced down to the east. The rising sun peaked through the branches, illuminating his form in speckled patches as my eyes came to rest upon him. I continued forward, tail arched upwards in a dominant manner that was second nature to me. My ears were perked and mahogany eyes trained upon him, my interest heightened by the way he held himself. It did not take me long to reach him then, and I nodded my crown in greeting. “Good morning,” I said, my voice easily recognizable in association with my prior howl. “I am Daenerys; might I know your name?” Perhaps it was the crisp morning air or the freshly fallen snow, but something had me in a particularly good mood. Warm eyes lingered upon his face, curious of his intentions here, but feeling no pressure to hasten the conversation.