[not relevant but for my own sake, i'm gonna set this to be just before the raid quest in canis]

So—cards out on the table—Howl never actually left the bowels of Monoceros after the Olympics. Not once did he even contemplate going off to Canis and looking for that statue piece like he had planned to. He was kind of just tired of exploration and pretty drained from all of it. He'd had a lot of time to think. Memories crawled under his skin like phantom fleas that he couldn't pick out no matter how hard he scratched (until he drew blood—then he stopped). But he was better now! He had filed through all of the slippery memoirs and made sure they were locked away in his mind. Some of the filaments of them had been cut off, but that wasn't important, he wasn't worried or anything—!

His arms were starting to itch again. Absentmindedly, he stopped in his gentle climb through the platforms to scratch at it. As soon as his hand moved up to the arm opposite, he huffed and forced himself to ignore the urge. It wouldn't help. He needed to find something else to keep his hands busy.

The hybrid had been following the patterns of this one particular beast soaring through the tumultuous winds, braving them with loot in tow. Well, less following specifically and more noting when the thing was there or wasn't. As he hoisted himself up another platform (he was too lazy to actually walk all the way around the winding trail, so he just kept jumping and climbing) he focused slightly on the diamond earring on his right side. He was fully aware that it was a fake. Howl had no idea where his mother's stone had ended up, smashed or not. That, too, wasn't that important. She was there, regardless of truth. She was beckoning him forth.

Pulling himself towards the highest platform (or what felt like such), the hybrid's eyes immediately widened. He'd hit the jackpot.

@Dread

Dread, in fact, followed very little pattern. He hunted when he was hungry, and slept when he was not, and sometimes, at random, he'd launch out from his den to soar on the winds, though never far from his den.

Rarely, he would venture all the way to the tunnel, and bring back some scrap or other of armor that caught his fancy, and drop it back there. After his sojourn back in Fornax, recovering from his illness, he had returned here with a good number of tiny, shiny, mostly smooth stones (all carried in his jaws, of course) that he'd managed to swipe out of his tiny hatching-niche with his tail.

He was larger, now, more recognizable as a black dragon rather than a winged lizard. His roar was almost--almost--a legitimate roar, though the bulk of the sound was still a vicious screech.

The den itself was a dark, shadowed area atop a stone platform, quite high in Monoceros, the cave's curved wall forming an arched ceiling over it. The ledge itself, should one clamber or crawl all the way out to its tip, looked out over the Twister, and was excellent for sunning oneself beneath the cave-orbs. But when it was dark he wanted, or safety, Dread could safely retreat back into the darkness, and be well and truly out of sight.

That was where he was now--curled up, wings folded, over his hoard, his obsidian-edged tail safely tucked beneath his jaw. Faint tendrils of smoke rose from his flaring nostrils now and again.

The hoard itself, however, was perhaps far more likely to catch Howl's eye: a by-now huge assortment of shiny stones of various colors, some threaded through with glinting metallic flakes, others clearly old gemstones of some variety or another. Others were baubled, glowing a soft golden-white, and there were too many of these for even the dragon to carry in one pass. Someone had clearly made him a great many--or he had done it himself, or, perhaps, spent a great deal of time in collecting them all.

Likewise there was simply a large collection of pieces of armor--and a good number, too, of gnawed, black-charred bones scattered around him.

Though the presence of the dragon might come as a surprise, he was, at least, heavily asleep. One would just need to be very, very careful not to stumble on his stones, should they wish to venture further in... and, for their sake, not smell all that strongly.

@Howl

The sneak-thief held his breath for a moment upon noticing that the big, smelly lizard was, in fact, there. Maybe he had misjudged the time? He wasn't sure how long it had been since he last actually saw the dragon leaving. Howl swore up and down that it had been recently. Closer to the present than the past. He was over-thinking, and his body flew into autopilot. The journey up to this ledge had already been taken, so he may as well get his loot's worth. Besides, he had seen bigger dragons. His dear Mama had brought down greater things armed with a single spear. She'd guide him, as usual.

Ushered on by false spirits, Howl edged towards the hoard, light on the tips of his knuckles, keeping his claws off of the stone. Each breath was slow, unconsciously shifting to match the bellowing sighs of sleep. He just had to blend in, keep low, quiet. As Howl moved methodically towards the shimmering pile of stones, mismatched eyes glanced all over, keeping tabs on the space around. While his memory slowly slipped away, his spatial awareness stayed keen. The more escape routes kept in mind, the better. As a last ditch effort, he'd fling the goodies into the twister and jump down. If it came to that, hopefully he wouldn't break his legs.

So, status update: he was coming closer and closer, hoping to not disturb a single stray stone that wasn't quite on the pile. Those weren't where the proverbial money was. That lay in the closely guarded gems themselves. The baubled ones, in particular. Just their glow made his fingers quiver in anticipation, flexing unintentionally as he stole towards the hoard. So far... so good, despite his tail just barely swishing over a stone and making it roll slightly. At that point, he froze and held his breath. Waiting.

@Dread

Dread was too deeply asleep to really notice the creature's odor, not now. He was happily dreaming of sweeping through some hot cave, with Monoceros' twisting winds and red windswept stone, yet the grey and rocky beaches and steaming waters of Fornax. It was a pleasant dream, and as he chased some herd of prey over the rock, he let out a bellow.

This, outside his dream and right in front of Howl, manifested as a low, rumbling growl, almost a belch. Nostrils flared as the dreaming dragon ignited his prey, brief twin tendrils of smoke rising from them.

When Howl's tail brushed a pebble, he at first did not awaken--but he clearly began to stir from his dream... to stretch, to flex. Black sinuous muscles slipped from a tight coil, the light catching them in dancing tones of gold and flame, the rustling of his wing-leather soft yet stiff and the wings themselves lit, as he rose them slightly, as if from within with a coal-red glow.

After a good ten seconds or so, the dragon's eyelid began to slowly raise--and the nictitating to gradually pull back. The jaws opened, a vast yawn escaping, rows of pointed teeth clearly visible in the light.

The dragon was waking up.

@Howl

There was a whole lot of regret in those few seconds it took him to realize that he had messed up the entire thieving endeavor by barely even moving his tail. In light of panic, he adjusted himself to run on the tips of his fingers and toes, traitorous tail straight up in the air like a warning sign. The end of it lazily trailed over his back, despite the very real panic in him. Escape routes forgotten and absolutely unwilling to give up this opportunity, Howl did the best thing he could: tried to scamper into the dragon's blind spot and stay quiet. Which, he hoped was behind him.

He was in luck in getting behind the dragon at the least, trying not to get nervous about the immense size of those teeth as it yawned awake. All he had to do was stay quiet and stay out of sight. Maybe it'd get bored and not be worried and go back to sleep or leave. He... suddenly really hoped he didn't smell that much. 'Pl-ease smill like rocks.'
@Dread

Dread did not even remotely notice the creature scampering behind him--who would expect it? Its pawsteps were soft enough as his scaled body rasped over stone, and his broad wings hid anything directly behind him from his view. He stretched, and yawned, and readjusted himself on the stone, not realizing that someone, something, specific had awoken him.

For a solid five minutes, he simply lay there, drowsing in the shade.

He was wondering if he should hunt. Yet the last time he'd caught a bat here, he'd wound up remarkably ill, and the foul-smelling thing had likely been to blame. He didn't want to go through that again. He'd have to use fire, first, and smell whatever he killed quite carefully--head to toe--for any trace of illness before proceeding.

Quiet, he stood, talons scratching the rock as he began to drag himself forward on wings and hind legs, his long, spike-lined tail extending slowly out behind him. Its obsidian razor edge, along the top of the tail-tip, gently uncurled and hovered mere feet from Howl as Dread pulled himself away.

He hauled himself into the warm orb-light and perched at the edge of the ledge, lowering himself down again to watch below. He could see the Twister from here, and the upper edges of the ravines far below; he could simply wait for prey to pass by before taking one. And meanwhile--bask, content, in the "sun." Quiet, he lowered himself back down--a single grunt escaping him as he set himself to watching, and listening, for a potential meal--unaware of the stranger lurking in his den just behind him.

@Howl

As he froze in place, not even daring to let a single twitch of his tail give him away, Howl closely inspected the hoard of gemstones and other goodies. It was of considerable size. He would have to steal constantly for two cycles to clear even half of the pile. The opportunities may rise again, but he'd have to take the best of each one as they came. Once he was certain that the dragon had settled again, seeming to bask like a reptile in a nonexistent sun. That was fine, he supposed. Just, the pressure was on. He was shaking a little, at the very least.

Despite the rattling feeling in his head, Howl made sure that the deep breath he took was as quiet as it possibly could be before inching his way towards the treasures. Holy shit his hands were shaking. Before he even considered taking anything, he bunched them together on his haunches and collected himself. All was still again despite trepidation crawling up his legs and throwing his heart into his throat. Tentatively, slowly, he reached out for his first prize, the shiniest stone he could immediately reach. He palmed it easily and smashed it into his mouth, eyeballing the pile fiercely in case he managed to disturb even a single bit of treasure.

So far, so good.

@Dread

Dread lay silent, for a long time, tail slowly swishing over the stone--and brushing over his baubles, missing Howl by mere inches. He remained blissfully unaware, his gaze and his attention on the gorge far below as he watched for potential prey.

It was about this time that a strange odor caught his nostrils. He lifted his head, sniffing audibly, blinking a few times. This was a foreign scent--musky, furry, hot and rank. It wasn't his own, and he blinked, pupils dilating as he swiftly shuffled round toward the odor.

Wing-leather rustled; claws scratched over stone, his bladed tail sweeping out so it was jutting over the ledge. He blinked.

There was a stranger in his den. HOW?! How had he not noticed? Not heard? How long had it been there?

For a moment he simply stared, blankly, shocked by Howl's presence. He wasn't even sure what the creature was, only that it was brown and furry and a stranger to him.

He also had no idea that it had crammed one of his baubles directly into its mouth.

@Howl

He'd been having a great time, to be honest, pocketing (more like mouthing, but whatever) various baubles and goodies, contemplating what ever ridiculous function he could put to them. Maybe he could be a Bilbo Baggins cosplayer, flaunting a single golden cup except the cup was a gem and not a cup. There had been a bazaar set up in Polaris, right? He had heard tell of such a thing, run by one of the strange creatures that was present at the Olympics (which, by the way, he was still upset about). Barters could be in order, if there was anything actually worthwhile enough. Of course, he'd probably steal that too. His thefts were often met with success. But not this one.

"Oh shee-it," Howl cursed under his breath, stifled slightly by the bauble crammed into his mouth, as the dragon sniffled and turned to face him. Taking great advantage of the confusion, he hurriedly smashed at least two more rocks into his mouth, making tears prick his eyes as his cheeks were cut slightly, and messily dove into the pile itself, tucking his tail between his legs so that it wouldn't stick out like a flag. Anything to buy time and gather a worthwhile haul. Dragons were big and slow, right? He would not be caught.

Dread stared. The thing did not seem sentient, and he noticed several things at once: first, he was still hungry. Second, the thing apparently wasn't the type that could speak and third, it was STEALING HIS SHINIES.

The creature dove into Dread's baubles and stones, and rage immediately filled him. How dare it! How dare the--rat... thing, steal his shiny stones! Those were HIS! His hoard! A deep breath filled his lungs, and the young dragon reared his head back, snakelike, indignant fury fuelling the magicka that roiled and surged hot within him.

His jaws opened. His eyes snapped wide, glaring toward his pile, and he aimed a powerful blast of-... nothing.

Aaabsolutely nothing.

A cough escaped him, then a snarling hiss, a puff of smoke rising from his nostrils the only testament to what he had tried to do.

Rage boiled, frustration, and he dug his claws into the rock. He was going to kill this thing.

@Howl