It was always a thrill to do something that was so inherently…wrong. Not that they were truly putting themselves in any real danger, she thought. Spirane had an alliance with Iromar and she didn’t know of the dark tales that might have once been told at night of the darkness lurking within the swamp-lands. Tales that would have been whispered in hushed tones to pups at night to keep them in their beds lest the demons of Iromar find them and gobble them up. Perhaps if those tales were still told she wouldn’t have so boldly danced across the well-marked borders, but as it were she thinks little of it and fears less. Her feet are light as she dances around the murky land and after the brown-capped boy. The almost impish look on her face is accentuated by her foxlike features and the excitement dancing in her eyes.

Her nature is to think little of the consequences of her actions, preferring the idea that it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission in such things, and so when the chiding tones of Arthfael reach her gold-tipped ears tip backward toward her skull and a scoff falls past her lips. “Okay, mom,” she heckled him with a roll of her ice blue eyes before leaping toward Rhaegal as if to bite playfully at his ear once more, albeit stepping with more care at this point. Only when he stopped so suddenly did she abandon her play attack and quiet herself, ears twitching as she tried to catch the disjointed sounds ringing across the marshes.

Whatever it is they simply have to explore it and without her even saying as much Rhaegal begins to make his way toward the small hill before them that would give them a better vantage point. She follows at his hip, her tail swaying gently behind her in the excitement, anticipation at what they might see just over the rise building. Her form mirrors his as they begin to crest the hill, lowering so she almost belly-crawls, her golden cape almost blending in with the reedy marsh grasses. As the scene below unfolded her eyes widened in excitement and awe. A smattering of wolves flew in a fury around a hulking, reptilian beast. This must be the alligator of legend, putting up a wild fight against the wolves who pursued it doggedly.

She gasped quietly to herself as she threw wolves about with her tail and began to charge the large, dark wolf who seemed to be heading up the entire party. Silently she roots for the wolves who pick up the assault anew, some even throwing themselves into the dangerous area before the gator’s gaping jaws. In her excitement she inched forward slightly in front of the rest of the group now, though the brilliant gold and gray of her longer coat brushed up gently against the warm gray tomes of Rhaegal’s own. She was so engrossed with the scene playing out before them that she almost missed both of the brother’s comments, the only indication that she had heard them at all was the errant flick of a grey and gold ear.

“This is so awesome, I’ve never watched a hunt before,” she whispers, her voice almost reverent at the scene before them. She had often pestered her mother who had recently become the Courser of the mountains to take her on a hunt, but she had yet to relent. This was a special treat, something she couldn’t have expected when they had set off this morning. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she says to no one in particular, just to bask in the wonder and excitement of it all. A whimper is the only thing that draws her attention to the small form of Semele tucked away in the side of Drogon as if the entire scene upset her.

A soft whine left her muzzle in sympathy though she wasn’t entirely sure why the girl was so upset. Hunting was hardwired into their DNA, to prey on those they could and it wasn’t as if they were massacring baby bunnies or anything. Unable to keep her eyes averted for too long she turned back to the raucous scene just as a large red wolf was seemingly trying to land atop the alligators tooth-line jaws while others viciously attacked her sides.