Sleeping Dragon I have fought the good fight

The other takes the exchange well enough. She'd learned the first go-round to keep distance between herself and the other packs. Sleeping Dragon, even with strengthening roots, is still young and still has a name to uphold. Everyone knew who everyone was in Seageda, and their neighbors for miles, as the pack had ended its multigenerational lineage. Everything is still so new here.

"Thuringwethil. Commander of Sleeping Dragon," she introduces herself and the mountain that shadows her only in size.

The woman speaks with utter command, her titles fierce and proud. A pleasure to meet you, really, he said, insistent. Because wow. She was so cool. So fucking cool. We don't really have a name yet, and I don't really have a title, he admitted sheepishly. Commander, while perfectly fitting for her and her mountain, seemed a little heavy-handed for what he had in mind. Though damn, he wished he'd thought of that while he was still fighting a war.

If it's alright with you, I'm gonna go now. I should tell my friends about our deal, he said. And with no protest from her nor her attendant, he left to do just that. Sriracha out.