Sleeping Dragon deyon ai raun maun

@Thuringwethil

It was a warm spring day, even on the mountain, and there was absolutely nothing for Seregryn to do. At least, she could not discern a good use of her time. The borders were well patrolled by the bear-woman and her ally, and there was no need of Sere to venture away from the mountain ridge line; so she busied herself with small games, tiny things to pass the time. She dug small caches in to the soil, but did not fill them - leaving them open as tiny pits - and wondered if anyone was stupid enough to trip themselves upon them. When that became boring (and it did, swiftly) she began to dig a trench at the base of a rocky overhang, and soon her body was covered in mud and debris.

The trench sloped down into itself, allowing Seregryn - or whoever, whatever fell in - to angle their way out. Once her paws were tired enough and her pelt in a decent state of ruin, she hoisted herself on to that incline and began to scramble out --- except, she didn't make it. The first charge up the path had her halfway out of the trench, her hips in line with the top soil. Though she was small and quick, it was not enough to bring Seregryn out of the hole she had dug -- and she tripped up, sliding back down to the bottom of the wolf-sized pit. The girl was determined, though. She tried again, and again, and with each failed attempt to run up and out, her claws dug more dirt away. She had effectively trapped herself.

But Seregryn refused to be out-done by something of her own creation. She was growing frustrated by her repeated failures, and had not thought to cave in part of the trench in order to seek her own safety; that would have ruined the entire point of the trench! And she'd worked hard to dig it out. There had to be another way for her to escape this stupid situation -- and she hoped to do it before anyone saw her messing about. This was no way for a future heda to behave. Seregryn was more irritated by the prospect of being found here, weak and stranded, by someone wishing her ill; surely being seen as weak was one thing, but being preyed upon in this situation would be far worse.

In the next few days, Thuringwethil would be going to Larksong Grotto but she first needed to make sure Lucani was going to be okay. She is their only hero and Sangilak seemed to know more, and it was then she knew she needed to make an effort to know a little bit more. At least some basics, in case something like this happened again, in case they really did lose Lucani, but for the time being she would leave the woman to rest and get better and get her the things she needs. Soon, she would feel comfortable leaving but for now it would be delayed.

Searching for Warbone, however, had left her empty handed. His scent lingered on the borders and near the hollows adjacent to the pack but beyond that, he had yet to be found. Irritation began to bubble inside her, wondering if he’d misunderstood her words when she’d snapped. She needed him to accompany her to the Grotto, needed him to understand that life is worth saving if it could. She had mercy, and could give it, but not until she knows it’s imminent. 

And in this case, it hadn’t been. Time and care had been all Lucani needed and soon she would be back to her normal self. She deserved the use of their resources.

Distracted in her thoughts, however, she doesn’t notice the scent of the young Fos Goufa until she hears a ruckus up ahead. With a slight tilt of her head, she moves until she finds ground disturbed and a flash of muddy brownish red below, stuck around walls of dirt without much of a way out. Her failed attempts showed, dirt collecting at the bottom and the hole seeming wider than perhaps it was intended.

“Hei,” Thuringwethil says with humor in her tone at the young girl. Things had been hectic since her arrival and her time with their future had been limited but now, it seems, the girl doesn’t have anywhere to go but to listen to her Heda.

Following one ditch effort to climb out, Seregryn settled at the bottom of the trench. She slouched, panting heavily while she slid against the nearest wall, and all but gave up. Once she'd rested some, she'd try again - and again, until she was free. Thus far the trench had become longer and deeper from her struggles, and she wouldn't be able to get out without help — and even now, Seregryn refused to ask for it.

She heard movement above, and then just as swiftly spotted the looming silhouette of the heda. Seregryn's eyes went wide at first. They glowed with the slanting light which caught one end of the trench, while the rest of her was cast in shadow. The girl's tail bat against her ankles for a second or two before she remembered her predicament and then it stilled, and she felt the full weight of the moment's mortification. 

Heda, she greets the woman — and then casts her gaze aside, deferential in part because she reveres her aunt so much, and also because of how stupid she feels.

Seregrýn regards her and Thuringwethil tilts her head a little, and moves to the side meant to be where she would escape and failed attempts left in her wake. The purpose is beyond the leader but she doesn't question it, observing carefully for an easy solution. She could throw dirt back in or try to hoist the girl up herself, but for now, Thuringwethil lowers back onto her haunches and lifts. brow.

"What were you trying to accomplish?" she asks and finds herself weirdly surprised to find comfort in her native tongue. She's barely used it in the months of creating Drageda, where most wolves did not know her tongue and the few that had have disappeared. With Gavriel and Seregrýn here, perhaps she would be able to use it once more and feel at home again.

The words of their people are a comfort to Seregryn as well, who grew tired of the odd tongue spoken among these foreign wolves within first meeting them. It bolstered her pride somewhat, and her self-image, to know that she had a secret language for only those of importance — such as the heda and perhaps even Gavriel; that she can speak freely to them at any point is a boon. The rest of these wolves, strangers to Drageda despite being aligned under the guidance of Thuringwethil, are not worth the girl's energy or attention.

Hearing Thuringwethil speak causes her young heart to fill with this pride, though it falters some when the answer bubbles forth from across her own tongue. I was... bored. I thought of digging a den, and then to dig a trap, and this... Seregryn cast her ruby gaze about hastily, and though her head raised and she seemed quite enthusiastic to be showing off her handiwork, her ears were splayed out on either side of her head and her tail remained upon the soft, exposed soil of the trench floor. This is what I ended up with. Or ended up inside, I guess.

She didn't lift her head much further than the heda's feet which were poised just above, on the solid edge of the trench. She would have asked for aid but was far too embarrassed — this was not how a fos goufa proved themselves to their heda, or so Seregryn believed.

Thuringwethil listens as the younger wolf explains her intention and how she’d gotten from making a simple den to a trap that, ultimately, caught herself. She chuffs a laugh and a grin smears across her face, but she does not move to look for another way to help her out. She remains firmly planted, sitting back on her haunches with her tail thumping a few times on the ground. There’s even a slight tilt of her head, as if she’s confused about how she’d managed to capture only herself, but she glances away for only a moment in consideration.

“It’s at least an effective trap,” she comments with one roll of her shoulder. “If you find a way to get out, it defeats the whole purpose. Good job.”

Her grin widens; she knows it’s not the intent but she can’t help the amusement build in her chest. Slowly, the young leader stands to all four feet and dips her head. She turns to leave and takes a few, slow steps—with no real intention of leaving—and waits to see what she can draw out of the younger wolf.

As if it helped matters to commend Seregryn for her work, Thuringwethil spoke highly of her - praising her, although her tone made Sere suspicious. She finds a great level of pride while the heda is talking, but then the woman turns as if to depart. As soon as her paws have shifted away from the trench, Seregryn's eyes are growing wide; and then when her back is facing the girl, she looked all the more worried. Her tail curls against her hocks and she lets out a boof, and when that does not catch Thuringwethil's attention, she rises up on her hind legs with paws planted against the trench wall.

Nou bants! She calls out piteously, hoping lamely that the heda will turn back around and maybe do something useful. This wasn't fair! What good was Seregryn down here in this pit? A small whine purled out of her then, and the girl swayed, unable to stay balanced because of how she poised herself. As she came sliding back down to her four paws, her toes and blunted claws dragged more dirt down with her.

The young female doesn’t say anything before she turns, and it’s after she’s taken a few steps that she’s frantically called back. Thuringwethil continues a few more steps, drawing it out, before she finally stops and turning her head. She barely sees the tips of her ears before she slips back down into the trench, obscured from view. Heda does not rush to her side, pivoting all the way back around and taking casual steps back to the ledge and peers inside.

“How do you think you can get out?” she asks then, watching from where she stands. She doesn’t sit and make herself comfortable again and lets the process work through the young girl’s mind. When she figures out the best way, even if it requires an extra hand, is when Thuringwethil will step in and help drag the girl out. But only if she figures it out herself.

What a predicament. And to have her heda abandon her! But she did not, it had been a trick that Seregryn remained oblivious to. The question that rained down upon her was met with a hanging jaw at first; mouth agape, eyes wide, she shook her head with an incredulous stare — I don't know! I can't! 

She had already tried to climb out, but that had sullied the fur of her chest and left her back sore from falling repeatedly. Still, Seregryn raised up so that she was on her hinds again, and then while standing human-like in the pit, worried at the nearest wall. The dirt collected at her paws until she lost balance again, and came teetering back down with a huff.

There is no way! she moaned piteously in their native tongue, and sank to the floor of the trench.

Seregryn remains further frustrated and Thuringwethil watches her like a blank slate, a statue standing above her as she becomes more and more agitated, ultimately falling back on her rump in defeat. Heda shakes her head once, twice, before she adjusts her paws and moves along the ridge of the trench, searching for an easy way out that the girl could find herself. With a little help, she’s sure she could get the girl out, but what would she learn from that?

“So you’d rather waste away?” she asks, smirk forming again as she paces back and forth. Occasionally dirt falls from where she steps, dropping it back in. “You can’t expect someone to come by every time you’re in trouble.”

How’s that for foreshadowing?

Being told off by the heda should have been an uplifting experience. Seregryn thought she would be pleased with any interaction she had with her idol, yet here, in the pit and faced with the woman, she felt only irritation. If she wasn't going to help her, why was she even here? What good was she? Although a flash of fire caught in her bright eyes she did not voice her thoughts, and paced at the bottom of the trench. Her eyes never strayed from Thuringwethil's dark figure as she moved, working the floor of the trench with her hasty steps.

Then, from one corner, she ran at the other. Determination wrought a stern expression across her dark face as she ran headlong towards the adjacent corner, leaping up to try and catch the dirt with her front paws, and then scrambled to try and climb out. The girl thought she was some kind of ninja, evidently. Her ribcage caught upon the edge of the dirt and she fell again, slamming hard to the ground with a squeal.

Seegryn’s silence is enough of an answer. One of Thuringwethil’s brow lifts, watching as she struggles through the frustration. She steps to the side to avoid any flailing, flying dirt, and the potential of the girl’s escape, but by the time she reaches the edge to jump, she’s met with a hard hit to the ground. The large wolf doesn’t move more than canting her head forward to peer over the side to the heap on the base of the trench.

“Nodotaim,” Heda commands. And if she were to not succeed; again.

And she does try again, despite the ache in her body and the pinch in her ribs. She rounds upon the corner and races forward, vaulting at a different spot, but does not connect the same way. Where before her ribs had caught, this time she falls short and her chin bounces with a click upon the edge. There is a snap as her teeth connect, and she falls to the bottom of the trench with her face carving a wedge of dirt out of the side. When Seregryn is standing at the bottom again she is dizzy but not finished; she turns her head and spits something (likely a broken tooth) in to the dirt, backs up, and retries before Thuringwethil can say anything else.

This time she is much closer, and with some scrambling she manages to get her forequarters out and is kicking at the inner wall of the trench with her hind legs, trying to garner some sort of grip for her paws. Her rear end is jutting out in to the pit and her tail, curled a bit beneath her, scrapes the wall and causes a wave of dust to rise and drift. She is almost there; but in true Lion King fashion, she looks to Thuringwethil with the hope that she will help her the extra inch - but maybe she will cast her back in to the pit to futher this lesson.

Hope you don't mind the PP. :3 If so, you can disregard the portion and I'll edit it out. :)

Seregrýn eventually begins in when Thuringwethil doesn't offer any more help but the next attempt isn't successful. There's a sound that would have made someone else cringe but the dark leader watches on as she regroups and rounds a second time. She lunges and scrambles and, eventually, has enough effort to hold herself up without plopping back on the ground. A strained look in her direction causes her to remain still, for only a moment. She could stand there and watch, let her fail and try again, and at first appears to be her decision.

However, Thuringwethil shifts from her position and slides over to her. If she falls back in the meantime, she'll let it, but as she nears where she struggles, drops her head to pull the girl by the scruff. The ground beneath her gives way but she shuffles back on sturdier ground with Seregrýn in her grasp until their both safely planted above ground.

She struggled, and then felt a pinch to the back of her neck. Was she being aided or hindered? It was a prime opportunity for Thuringwethil to remove a pest from her ranks, a possible usurper, before anything ill could befall Drageda. That was what Seregryn would have done if the situation was reversed - or rather, if someone she loathed was stuck in such a predicament. She'd have let them starve in the trench, or maybe even end their lives as they sat suspended on the edge. But then the heda pulled, and Seregryn was freed from her awkward mid-air dance. The feeling of her chest being tugged through the dirt was painful although she dared not make a noise, not wanting to appear weak before her leader - even if her struggles pointed in that direction.

When she was safe and secure on land, she got to her paws, looked to Thuringwethil with a bright expression, and then dropped her tongue out of her mouth and panted plainly before her. After a minute or two she slurped her tongue back in to her head and said, Thank-you, heda. I will be more careful in the future.

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There's a little dead weight for a few seconds but Seregrýn kicks in and with scrambling legs she class at the dirt to pull herself up. With the added assistance from both of them, with one big momentum-filler pull, the girl's up on higher ground. She'd been caught in the cross fire and dirt from the fos goufa's flailing landed on her. When she spits out her scruff and shakes out her fur.

Slate eyes shift back to her charge as she begins to speak, and while she may sound somewhat sincere, Thuringwethil takes them at face value. She nods, once, before she pivots back.

"Come with me," she instructs with a slight swish of her tail. "I need to learn where your teachings were left off, until we have another fleima from home."