(421) I hate that I was coerced into this thread. UGH UGH UGH. They should know each other's names? At least, Draugr should know his. WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF LITTLE DRA ESCAPED MEANTACHI'S NOTICE. 
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Draugr is by me!
Although it was not yet true summer, Draugr already found herself disliking the heat. She was a creature born in the late summer, and she did not remember such heat, naturally. Her earliest memories were those of fall and winter, and these were her preferred seasons. Still, it was not so bad now that her winter coat had fallen mostly out. Here and there a clump of shedding fur still stuck out sorely, but for the most part, she was rather well put-together -- aside from the scrape on her shoulder.
Fresh and raw and red, it was evidence of her hard time hunting today. The drab-furred wolfdog sought the marshes of Drifter Bay for quarry, allowing Dyrne to graze while Dra herself roamed and roved in her two-legged form. It was more difficult hunting that way, but Dra enjoyed the challenge well enough and sought to improve any skill she found lacking. It was not the two-legged form but the slick patch of mud, hidden by the grasses, which had caused her to slip; she slid right into a rock with a sharp edge, leaving a short, thick sort of mark on her arm.
Undeterred, the Associate had persisted once she'd licked the wound clean, and her persistence had rewarded her with a prize. Stalking closer to the beginnings of Halcyon Mountain, she'd chanced on a goat. It was old, but fiercely large and fiercely proud. Even with a broken leg, it fought and struggled to get away as she neared. Once the creature was dead, Dra was able to determine the probable cause of its mishap: both eyes were clouded over with cataracts, perhaps dimming the creature's vision to the point where it had made the ill-timed leap to break its leg.
The easy meal was now slung across Dyrne's back, Draugr walking before her horse with the reins turned so she might lead the chestnut. She was not surprised to see canines out and about in the ruins: one made her stop a moment, considering. There was a heavily packed bag, and the blonde-furred coyote seemed to be pulling stone from the bag. Pale purple eyes considered him a moment, head cocked to the side, before she took a step forward. Dyrne followed obediently.
Itachi-sir, she said, quietly. Why so much colored stone? Those are strange shapes for rock. She was intrigued by their pale colors, enough so that the goat and her hunger were both temporarily forgotten.
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