Less and less frequently did the large black male find himself returning to the familiarity of the mountains. More often than not, he found himself resting in protective alcoves away from spring rains during the day, and wandering under the bleak darkness of the starless sky at night. Drogon knew the longer he stayed away from Spirane, the more his family's concern would build for him. But the longer he spent time alone, the less guilt he felt over it.

This night he wandered through the dense trees of Enocra Woodland. Shadows were cast on occasion when the waning moon appeared from behind the clouds which blotted out the starlight. Broad shoulders rolled almost in a catlike fashion as he weaved amongst the tree trunks. In the darkness he appeared purely black, the crimson that threaded through his fur almost impossible to discern. Garnet eyes looked off through the trees, ears moving slowly atop his skull, always aware of his surroundings.

Drogon's forward motion stopped at a sound overhead, and he lifted his eyes towards the shadowed canopy. Suddenly the air shifted and the colony of bats swooped down from above. They were hunting, and their low-pitched calls were barely audible to the wolf. Soaring low to feed on insects, their leathery wings very nearly brushed the top of the black male's head as they flew by. Drogon's nose wrinkled and he snapped, reclining on his hindquarters before standing up just enough to snatch one out of the air. His teeth pierced the wing and he flung his head malevolently towards the ground, striking the bat's body hard enough to stun - or perhaps kill - the nuisance.