Sleeping Dragon Fire

The name that she knew him by: Warbone was apparently less of a name and as he described it his earned title. “I see,” Gyda spoke with thinly veiled fascination. Despite her curiosity, however, she respected his vagueness and did not press for further information that he was not willing to give her. As a small child that had been one of her worst habits: never knowing when to stop asking questions. His question caused Gyda to give a slight cant of her head to the right, her eyes assessing him in the limited light they were afforded by the moon, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I suppose I have several titles, Viking Queen, shield-maiden, valkyrie by some,” All of which were individual honors though two of them were not so transparent and tended to overlap. “and Átta,” She admitted softly, caught between a brief moment of fond remembrance and the pain of loss. Gyda supposed it wasn't much of a title: it had been the number she'd been given in Ragnar's language upon her birth, but it had always meant more to her than any title she'd ever been or would be given in her life. Occasionally, she'd been known to use when handling diplomatic affairs with wolves that did not know her personally during her time in Odinn's Cove, but Gyda hadn't seen the use in continuing with it in Teekon Wilds for the simple fact that she'd been born here and there was some small chance that some of the wolves that still roamed these parts would either know of her or Ragnar, at the very least.