Qeya River under the dome

While Thuringwethil has her own limited experiences with family and children, and none of her own, she is still wary of the mother’s reaction. She expects her to remain protective but there is a tiredness in her features that reeks of desperation and the boy leaves her with more questions. Their scent is empty of anywhere in particular and so Thuringwethil keeps her distance when she is warned. She dips her nose a little to make sure Freyja remains in place before she spins her attention back.

“Heda Thuringwethil,” she says, unsure of who to give the answer to. “Commander of Sleeping Dragon.” She stiffens a little then though her feature is no less dominant than if they were at her border, for land that the mountain touches, in some way, still belongs to her. She’s effectively taken care of them since winter and giving her wolves the space they need. “This is Freyja,” she adds though she is a little unsure of which title to give the girl as she wears many and instead omits it entirely.