It had become vastly apparent to Drogon early on in his life that Spirane's immense borderline was always in need of patrols. While the pack's Castellan - Drogon's own uncle - and the armament that worked with him, were diligent in their duties, there were still those that thought themselves above the law of wolf. The young dragon prince of the mountain had come into contact with multiple wolves who had all but ignored the potent and plainly evident scent markers of his mother upon the border. These lands belonged to a pack, those who were loyal to one another and fell under the protection of Daenerys. But it had been only his first winter when Drogon had first come into contact with a wolf who thought himself better than the borders he had so carelessly trespassed across. Hyrule, a boy that he had come to tolerate if only because his brothers seemed to take a liking to him, and Semele counted him as a friend. So his transgression had been allowed, though perhaps not entirely forgiven. He had been the son of a long allied pack, at least. Belhara had been another case entirely, and though she too was of an allied pack Drogon firmly believed that did not give a wolf the right to simply traipse into their neighbor's backyard. At first he had been firm with her, insistent that she leave, but as the conversation had progressed he had begun to realize that the girl may very well have not been quite all there in the head. So he'd escorted her a bit further within Spirane, and then saw her out later that night.

Overall, it would seem, the parents of Moladion's children simply needed to educate their broods from the start about respect. And it appeared as though Drogon's opinion on this matter would be further tested this brisk day as he moved along the borderline at an extended trot. The darkened male seemed to grow almost continuously, occasional spurts making him quickly outgrow his littermates. But as he neared the brink of his second year, his form seemed to balance out over the immense paws that carried him along the borders. Only half grown he was already a force to be reckoned with, and a picture of masculinity. His broad head was carried dormant, just below the line of his back in an efficient and powerful stride. Nostrils flared wide to catch each scent that he detected, hard garnet eyes moving slowly back and forth to keep a constant vigilance on the duty at hand. To some the role of border patrol was monotonous and boring, but Drogon knew and understood its importance in the form and function of a strong pack.

He smelt her before he ever saw her, senses trained in on the foreign entity that had so recently passed across the borders of his home. Quick to fall upon the fresh trail of prints in the snow, an ebony ear pivoted towards the sound of a voice he did not recognize. A command was given, plain and simple - stop. Immediately he moved towards the source, rounding a slight bend in the snow and rock laden trail before his sights set upon the duo. A pup and a grown - or near enough - female. His progression down the trail towards them never ceased or faltered even as the pup craned her neck to look back at the one who had bidden her to reconsider her choice to enter the pack lands. The insubordinate child should have listened to her keeper. He didn't care much for their exchange of words, only that the pup heed the adult and go away from here now. She had no business here, for she was not pack and clearly had no interest in becoming such. Drogon's fuse for dealing with insubordinate, disrespectful pups was quickly growing short.

It was not until he was stopped directly in the intended trail of the youth that an inkling of familiarity sparked within his mind in regards to the adult that warned the pup of her precarious life choices. This realization did not change his intentions though as he moved to stand in a fashion so that when she finally turned her head away from the older female that addressed her, she would find her path blockaded by the much larger form of a darkened male. He did not snarl or pull back his lips in warning, he simply stood, hardened garnet eyes staring her in the face. There was no dare or challenge in his gaze, rather he looked flatly at her in a manner made only to impress upon her that she would be allowed to go no further. This was his home, not hers, and she would not take another step further within the lands that were not meant for idle paws to wander within. Spirane was a captivating and dauntless realm, but only those who were pack or guests of the pack were invited to explore its bounties. She had trespassed, and it was important that she learn this was not in her best interest. Whether it was Drogon or her pupsitter to teach her this lessen remained to be seen.