Sleeping Dragon vikings attack paris

That's fine! c:

Gyda moved along the borders, her pace even but slowed, pausing to sniff at and squat to refresh them when necessary. The truth was they did not necessarily need refreshed, for there really wasn't any stale marks upon their borders. Perhaps some wolves' scent were lacking where they had not been patrolling them but she could not hold such things against them. Not all wolves were cut out for patrols, nor guarding the borders at that. 

Gyda had just paused in her patrol long enough to kick up as much of the frozen earth as she could to spread her scent through her paw pads upon another small stretch of the borders before the sound of heavy footfalls drew nearer to her position. Her velveteen ears of silver perked and for the briefest of moments she thought that it was coming from the outside of the territory, still on her edge from chasing James from them. She relaxed some when she recognized that the heavy footfalls could only belong to Goliath and sure enough as she peered over a dainty shoulder he appeared, lumbering towards her.

She turned to face him, so that she might greet him, her tail raising over her back in a display of dominance not to be overly assertive but as a reminder considering his lack of subordinate upon his joining nearly cost him his chances. At first, he had not seemed all that thrilled that she was the viking queen of the Dragon, though whether it was because she was small or because she was a woman Gyda did not know nor did she not much care. “Goliath,” She spoke a greeting to him, his name lilting upon her heavily accented voice.