The boy was feeling rather conflicted over the entire situation, though his stern gaze never betrayed as much. He was a member of the Liege of Spirane now, and that meant he was responsible for ensuring that the borders were well defended and trespassers were not allowed to just walk into the pack lands of their own accord. And he had succeeded in that, stopping this girl who was not of the mountain from traipsing about. Could a girl that heard voices in her head and associated them with the stars really be that much of a danger to the pack? He sniffed at her again, trying to figure out what was familiar about her scent. Finally the memory occurred to him, of when he and his brothers had gone to Glorall in the company of a wolf named Praetor. They had passed Iromar's borders and gotten a whiff of what those lands smelled like. And her scent was rife with it. So she is a member of an ally pack, but did that really make so much of a difference? She was not pack, so she would not see the peaks. He was determined in this.

His glares are answered with equally strong stares from the girl, and some tiny bit of him was impressed with her boldness in her quest to reach what it was she wanted. But as another firefly flitted between them Drogon swatted it out of the air and showed it to her, so that at least she would not appear so foolish the next time she encountered these insects around other wolves. For a moment she seemed more interested in the bug than her demanding stares and over the top requests, lowering her nose to sniff at it. Perhaps he could further distract her with the bugs and see her back to the borders before sending her on her way. But then she pulled back and swatted at his paw knocking the thing away even as she went on to ask more questions about it. Scowling, he flicked his tail over his hindquarters and simply ignored her inquiry. If she was going to be so rude about it then she didn't deserve an answer.

Once more her blue eyes stared pointedly into those of garnet, and he remained just as he was. When she took a step closer to him he felt his fur bristle slightly, such proximity reserved for only those with whom he enjoyed spending time. He had to remain stoic, keep his cool and handle the situation as a member of the Armament might. What would Uncle Sleekwing do? Darkness fully shrouded the land around the two young wolves as finally she broke the tense silence between them, offering a bargain of sorts. His brows furrowed for a moment before relaxing, and he huffed quietly to himself. While his mother had explained the reasons for alliances between the packs, he could not remember the exact details of their relationship with Iromar. Something about training and good relations. The last thing he wanted to do was somehow go against whatever agreement his mother had made with the leader of the swamp wolves. "Fine," he conceded at last, as the girl looked up to the sky above them. She had asked to be taken to the mountain, after all, not the highest peaks. He would never relinquish that treasured destination so easily. He knew that dragons were not real and stars could not speak, so perhaps he should just help this confused girl get a little higher up the mountain and then maybe she would go home and not make any more trouble.

"Keep up," he said, before abruptly about facing and heading up the closest trail. He had a place in mind, that might satisfy this strange girls need to be closer to the stars, without putting her anywhere near the peaks or the rest of the pack. Always at least one ear was angled backwards to hear the steps of the girl, so he would know if she was keeping pace and also not trying anything funny like sneaking off by herself or attacking him from behind. At first the trail was a sloping incline, easy enough for any wolf to jog along as they steadily made their way upwards. But the further they went, the trail began to bend back and forth, gradually becoming steeper. Drogon listened to the movements of the girl, wondering when she would begin to lose her breath. He would not, for he had made this trek far too many times, and treks far steeper than this within the true heights of the mountain. He was convinced the destination he had chosen would suffice, and after some time climbing they finally neared it. Drogon did not speak, only listened to ensure that Belhara still moved with him. And then they came to a slightly opening off the side of the trail, and Drogon led her through it. It gave way to a narrow precipice that jutted out from the mountain, just wide enough for two wolves to stand upon. He moved off to the side, watching Belhara expectantly as he gave her the option to move out towards the edge that would probably seem dangerous to her, though he had stood along cliff edges much higher within the range, where the drop would mean certain death. Though they were only part way up the mountain, they were far enough up that the treetops no longer infiltrated their view; the lowlands and the headwaters of the Aplos sprawled out before them. He took in the view for only a moment, before training his severe garnet eyes upon Belhara once more, wondering what her idolatry of stars would summon to her lips now that she was a little higher up in the world. As he took a deep breath of calming, higher altitude air, he thought that maybe they were a little closer to the stars after all.