fire made flesh; and fire is power

Rhaegal was sure to step lightly as he neared the location of the den that contained Bastille's family. Though he had never met anyone from her family other than Embla, he would have had to been blind to miss the immense form of her father within the heights of the mountains. Ragnarok might not have been the most sociable wolf of the pack, but his presence was duly noted. And the last thing that Rhaegal wanted to do as he snuck up to take his daughter off on a gallivanting adventure was to wake Ragnarok up. As she shushed him, he lifted an eyebrow, curious how exactly she expected him to be any more quiet than he already was being. But a devious smile creased his features as he moved to stand beside her, listening to her words and looking out across the vast landscape that spread out before them. The first light of day just touched the lands, casting shadows and making everything seem that much more exciting. When she touched her nose to his cheek in the way that had become customary between them, he turned his nose into her and pressed the cold tip to the line of her jaw. There was something about Bastille, from the first time they'd ever met, that made Rhaegal want to explore the farthest reaches of Moladion by her side. Their adventurous spirits seemed to only egg one another on. Withdrawing, Rhaegal grinned at her and whispered, "Then let's go explore it." When she nipped at his ear he playfully bit back at hers - telling himself that he'd intentionally missed as she challenged him to a race. He was quick to sprint after her.

Viserion's retrieval of Arthfael had been a little less eventful, the blonde prince quick to notice that his friend was perhaps not the morning type. Still, he offered him a smile and together they walked in silence down towards the meeting place. While Drogon and Semele had been the first to arrive and thus forced to wait for the others, the largest of the group had valued the moments with only Semele as company. Her reception of his arrival brightened his otherwise serious eyes, for he never tired of watching and feeling the way her body absolutely exploded with wiggling delight when she was happy. When she spoke his name that special feature - reserved only for her - that so resembled a smile adorned his face and he whispers as quietly as he can, "Semele," with tones uncharacteristically deep for a boy his age. Though it is but a whisper, the raspy quality of his voice had seemed to wane, to a certain extent, for he found that the more time he spent in her company the more he was likely to speak. His head dipped as she came towards him, and she nuzzled and hugged him in every way she knew how. When she came to stand at his side he wondered if it would be appropriate for him to return the gesture, and unsure how to do so. But just before they set off he reached forward and touched his nose between her ears, then withdrew and set off towards their destination. Never does he move to relinquish the closeness between them, finding comfort in their proximity.

No words are needed between them as they wait, for Semele's excitement was practically palpable in the air. When the others arrived Rhaegal was quick to get them moving, and at the bump to his side Drogon was compliant to cross over the borders of Spirane and into the freelands beyond. Viserion was glad to see his friend beginning to brighten up the further they distanced themselves from Spirane. They moved as a wayward group, the anticipation for what was to come staying any conversation that otherwise might have blossomed if the impending breaking of so many rules was not at hand.

The first to cross into the great unknown of Iromar were Rhaegal and Bastille, though their companions were not far behind. They seemed to move without thought of the consequences that could become of their actions, so caught up in the adventure to be had. Viserion's attention was taken by Arthfael's words about the fact that alligators laid low to the ground. Suddenly he wondered what color they were, and just how good their camouflage was. Hopefully none would accidently step on one and land them in a world of trouble. Even as his friend chided the two front runners of the group, Viserion nodded and added, "We must be careful where we step," both in light of the quick sand information as well as his concerns about quite literally stumbling on an alligator. Yet Drogon was distracted with Semele, a single ear flicking back at his brother's words, but his other ear and both eyes fixated upon the female glued to his side as she stared at the bird in awe. She glanced up at him, noting that the bird was beautiful even though it was different. Stoic garnet eyes looked down into her pale orbs and he nodded in agreement. Perhaps this bird could not swoop and dive the way that the hawks that circled the peaks could, but there was still something to be said for it. And if she could define that as something as being beauty, then Drogon was obliged to agree with her. She asked then if he thought this strange bird could sing the way the songbirds of the mountain could, and the darkened brows of the boy furrowed slightly. Could all birds sing? He was not sure.

But just as he was about to reply, a loud commotion from not far ahead had all three of the boys frozen, Rhaegal stopping fast just after Bastille had exclaimed how awesome this was. He assured that she had stopped with him before his head whipped forward and ears pricked. There was a slight hill just in front of them, and as the splashing and growling continued, Rhaegal took a deep breath and glanced around at the group, ensuring everyone was still together - of course this being 'his' idea and not Arthfael's - before he slowly began to creep up the slight incline of the low hill. When he neared the top, where it plateaued off, he dropped onto his stomach and crawled through the tall grasses, keeping himself as hidden as possible. Viserion glanced to Arthfael, moving to follow his brother; but Drogon did not move until Semele did. He would take up the rear guard, glancing over his shoulder to make sure some border patrol had not picked up their scents and followed them here. Still, he remained close to Semele, and when she was ready he would move to join the others. He was forced onto his belly before the others due to his larger size, but he crawled forward just the same, keeping his head low and a constant watch on Semele.

Once those of the group who had decided to join Rhaegal were hidden in the grasses at the top of the slight incline, they were able to see what all the noise was about. A large group of wolves had descended upon a massive alligator - the Iromarian pack was hunting! "I don't think we have to worry about getting caught any time soon." Rhaegal half whispered, glancing down the line at Bastille and then Arthfael. Viserion quickly counted the wolves present - seven adults. The white that rimmed his eyes accentuated the way they narrowed as he shot a look down towards Rhaegal. "I am quite certain there are more than seven wolves in this pack, Rhaegal." He retorted, knowing that his brother's words had been a jibe at Arthfael's earlier concern about them sticking together. When his golden eyes turned back towards his friend he simply rolled his eyes, trying to convey that his brother was not always the most cognizant of wolves.

But his interest in learning about the great beast that thrashed under the attack of the Iromarian's quickly stole his attention, molten pools falling on the scene below them. Already Rhaegal was more concerned with the alligator than what was thought of him. And though Drogon could not help but be fascinated with the way the beast flung a wolf away from her with the sheer magnitude of her tail, he still managed to divide his attention between the 'gator, Semele, and an occasional glance back over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone.

drogon; rhaegal; viserion