An odd feeling crept up within Drogon as the sounds of cracking bones filled his ears. His nostrils flared as he stared down at the bat, its body weakly writhing from the pain he had inflicted. The creature would never fly the midnight skies again, as death was sure to come to claim it soon. But the oddness was not in witnessing or causing death - he had always been a force to be reckoned with in the hunt. It was this simple act of killing for the sake of killing. Or perhaps not so simple. Drogon had never snuffed out another life force without reason - certainly not for the simple reason of having been annoyed. Yet he stared down at the suffering animal and felt no guilt, despite having no intentions to consume its flesh. Still, the mountain blood that coursed through his veins demanded he at least put the thing out of its misery, and so he stepped forward, dipping his head low and wrapping his jaws around the thing's neck. One swift crunch of his jaws ended the bat's life, and then it was simply a limp corpse laying at his paws.

That was when the voice of another filled the dark void of the forest, and Drogon's large had turned up and to the right to see the woman to whom it belonged to. His garnet eyes lingered upon her for a moment before he answered her question with a gesture. Grasping the bat once more, he flicked his head and tossed the carcass in her direction. Lifting his head and turning to face her squarely, he answered simply - "All yours." Perhaps she was hungry, and his killing it would not be entirely senseless. If not her, then some other scavenger would likely come across it in the coming hours. Either way, there was still no guilt clawing its way to the surface. He simply could not find it within himself to care - for the bat, or much else these days.

Drogon could have simply kept moving, left the bat the woman and resumed his wandering amongst the shadows. But instead, he lingered, garnet eyes watching her. He wondered who she was, and what had drawn her out into the long shadows of the woods this night. Her predominantly white pelt stood out against the darkness far easier than his, but the darker colors the draped over her head and down her withers were harder to discern. It was only the luck of the clouds giving way to the waning moon that offered enough illumination to distinguish the crimson that swept across her facade. More leanly built than he, Drogon's gaze swept across her form briefly, wondering what her next move would be - if any.