Two wolves loomed before him as he turned back in the direction from which he'd come, stopping him where he stood. Despite the irritation he felt at the encounter with the green-eyed shewolf, his garnet eyes were unfeeling as he took in the two wolves who blocked his exit. Both were considerably smaller and lighter than him. Where his intelligent brother Viserion might have weighed the probability of overcoming the two in a fight, or the likelihood that he could outrun them, Drogon simply stood, watching them. A familiar feeling welled up inside him, that same sensation that had trickled down over his mind when he'd encountered Onias in the crags. Perhaps it was what had drawn him to stay there for so long. The pull of the darkness, the recognition of it in another. It reflected back at him from the silver pools of the more dominant wolf's eyes plain as day.

Drogon stood tall and silent, his chin instinctually lowering slightly to protect his vitals as his garnet eyes tracked the subtle movements of the male as he spoke. He assumed this Bonecollector was the female who had baited him here, the realization of what had truly transpired quickly becoming apparent. Still, even as Blackthorne jibbed at him that he was far from a mere bone, his gaze remained unfeeling. Brows were lowered, legs stiff, and his tail raised slightly away from his hocks. For some time now he had been living on his own, and it had been long enough since his last visit to Spirane that the underlying scent of his true home was essentially undetectable. Surely he seemed like no more than a stray wolf, a vagrant who had taken up residence in the crags.

His right ear cocked ever so slightly to the side, keeping aware of the female though his attention was fixated on the male who spoke. Drogon did not respond to his taunts, but he did not sneer at them either. Passive though he appeared, the darkness inside of him coiled around his heart in response to the dominance exuded by Blackthorne. Perhaps it was the ambiance of the swamps, this dark and desolate place that seemed for years had fostered darkness within. But just like when he had encountered Onias, he did not try to tamp down the demon within as it reared its head in recognition of another. "Drogon," he answered gruffly, his hackles bristling unbidden, prepared to defend himself if it came to that. But it seemed that curiosity about what he had walked into was winning out over all the nobleness that had been ingrained in him since birth.