Dragoncrest Cliffs everlong

Thuringwethil. He was never going to get that name right. Fortunately, the dark-haired woman had something of a moniker that was far easier for him to repeat: "Heda." It would be some time before he came to know the significance of her title and comprehend it. That she led more than just this pack with that name was a grand thing beyond the understanding of a pup his age, who came from a culture very unlike Drageda's. For now it was just a name that he would know her by, like Étoille, who hadn't known her true one until just then.

They came to a place that smelled of milk and warm bodies. Ephraim was whisked away into his memories for a spell, remembering a time when his world had been a soft blue glow with the same scent around him. That was before bears and foxes and storms showed him what a frightening place the world could be. Stationed outside the den entrance was a woman whose colourless fur was patched with black and his soft yellow eyes met her green ones for just an instant. Her voice was soft and comforting, perhaps the first truly soft sound he had ever heard in a woman's voice—both Caiaphas and Thuringwethil possessed a quality that was stern even when gentle, the mark of leadership—and it sent a tingle up his spine.