The wanderer awakens.
The human den with the lake and the scent of oil has long since been left behind him, reduced to a hazy memory with few bright, vivid patches.
One of those patches was an older, smaller, gruffer female dragon. Flightless, but tenacious. Ordinarily he would have left her to her territory and he would continue wandering - but she chose to wander with him, nestled safely in his backspines. They've ah.. suffered from her travel anxiety. A bit shorter than is proper, one almost down to the quick.
She wasn't quite used to flying.
Luckily for her, he had finally deigned to land, allowing her to rest with ground under her claws and him to rest his wings, stretch his legs, and find something more substantial than seafood to eat.
Maybe a moose. Or twelve.
Thousand. Twelve thousand.
The massive beast hunkers low to the ground and prowls, aware that there isn't much cover here. Rocks, mostly. A lot of them. Once in a while he sniffs them, and the further he moves away from his landing point, the more sidetracked he becomes.
Those deep bellows are probably scaring off the game. But maybe something bigger and scalier could find him through them? He's rather sociable for a solitary species.
