A howl rose into the frosted, chilled air and Gyda gave pause to her patrol, velveteen ears dappled in silver roving to either side of her head, alert as she attempted to pinpoint the directional origin of the call. It was south of her current position but from the volume in which she'd heard the howl Gyda discerned that she was not far from it. She turned and made her way, retracing steps she had already taken in the interest of intercepting whomever was at the Dragon's borders. Her breath rose in furls of white steam, kissing along the black leather of her nose as she kept her pace even. She did not rush and yet neither did she take her leisurely time.

It did not take her long to reach the area in which the other silver woman waited, her silhouette coming into the shield-maiden's view first. As Gyda drew nearer, she pulled herself up to her full height, her tail rising over her back in a clear display of dominance. Her posture was elegant and yet savage. It spoke so that she did not need to. She was the Viking Queen of this dormant dragon, and she was not a force to be reckoned with, although there would always be those who underestimated her. She allowed them this, even if she felt the ugly inkling to prove them wrong. Ragnar had made it work in his favor and he was three times her size and much more imitating than his dainty and beautiful daughter by and far. 

Still, being his secret shadow, Gyda hoped, had paid off. Mimicking his mannerisms and stoic expressions in the hopes that they would harbor the same effect. Perhaps they had not when she'd been just a little slip of a girl but Gyda was no child now. She was a shield-maiden, a queen. She was Ragnar's prodigy even if he had always assumed it would be Mercury or Gunnar. “I am Gyda Loðbrok, Ragnarsdottir,” The shield-maiden offered an introduction, giving a moment of pause as she drew to a stop, assessing the other silver cloaked woman before her with a sweep of Gyda's icy carribean gaze. “Viking Queen of Sleeping Dragon.” Then Gyda fell silent, expecting an introduction and a purpose for the call.

Thuringwethil received a lot of negativity when she’d been called to lead her wolves. Most of them had accepted it, as is their way, but some wouldn’t believe the calling. The conclave to determine whether or not the heda’s spirt had chosen her upon the death of the last had come out in favor and, at eight months old, she’d taken over the role easily. Even after her accomplishments and advancing Seageda and the rest of the clans, wolves were still fooled by her age. 

The way the grey wolf in front of Gyda, however, had not gone unnoticed by the dark leader as she approaches the tail end of the exchange. The stranger’s features looked far more set in stone, approaching an age older than either of the leaders of Sleeping Dragon. Heda narrows her eyes as she steps out into the open, head high and tail arched over spine. Thuringwethil stands a few yards back from the smaller leader, watching to see how she’d handle the minute shred of dominance the other held onto. 

Perhaps luck for the beggar Gyda had shown up first.

It was as Gyda approached that she saw the other silver draped woman, older than her, raise her tail over her back in response to the viking queen's own show of dominance. Gyda felt a fury worthy of any Berserker rise like a tsunami tide with in her, and her brows furrowed in accordance. In a breadth of a moment there was a  split second of thought — just enough to calm herself. Perhaps the older, lone woman at their borders was deluded because she was a nobody here and she held no power. Not over any of Sleeping Dragon and especially not over Gyda herself. It was a fool's move; but Gyda was nothing if not clever. She had made the initiation of conversation (though this was before she'd caught the dominate display because otherwise she would have charged her by now). Gyda's head canted to the side in a bird like manner as Silver made her plight, mimicking Ragnar's observant head tilt after watching him do it so many times. After years of hero worshiping him she had begun to pick up on the patriarch's habits even if she did not realize it herself.

Gyda did not glimpse back at the approach of another, the scent that wafted her way telling her it was Thuringwethil. How much of what her co-queen had seen Gyda did not know. The shield-maiden had no plans of accepting the loner into Sleeping Dragon after that display. Giving chase would have been much easier, but Gyda wanted to tear her down first, or at least try to. She was angered, and she wanted to prove that she was the alpha bitch last woman whom this loner wished to make enemies of. She had attacked James and in truth Gyda was willing to do a whole lot worse. “And why should I accept you, hm?” Gyda inquired softly, brazenly. “Your display did not escape my notice loner. Perhaps you have forgotten that with no pack you have no power. Not over my wolves and not over me. You are nothing.” Just another wolf driven to the borders of a pack by desperation that winter wrought down upon them.

“Or did you think I did not see?” Gyda hissed, moving forward, her muscles taunt, her head high, and her lips pulling back from her teeth in a low growl. She would show this woman her place and then she would chase her from the slumbering dragon's lands.

The female didn’t acknowledge her, though it didn’t bother her. She is close enough to listen, leaving herself with enough space to not really be apart of the conversation. Gyda’s body shifts a bit more, lifting her head high if she could, fur bristling to make herself bigger, and her words feeling Thuringwethil’s chest, finding heda’s response similar. Her already large form bristles and she lifts one foot, eager to rush forward.

Eventually, the other sees it won’t work out and she doesn’t have much chance. Her head still above her shoulder and tail waving proud like a flag. Her muscles tense around her shoulders as she slowly puts her paw back down, glancing only a heartbeat at Gyda before she centers herself into a launch.

With a roaring growl blazing from her chest, she hits the ground to quickly cover the distance between herself and the dignified wolf that threaten her borders. Thuringwethil’s large feet hit the ground in loud thumps to speed along the loner’s exit, mouth open should she not break into a run to free herself from her clashing jaws.

The nerve of the stranger before her is insulting to the shield-maiden who would not have her position as one of the Dragon's rulers — the other of which lingered near to her — pushed about as if it were nothing. The stranger had no right to be dominate in a place where she would be anything but and she was trying Gyda's patience. A warning snarl wrenched itself from the shield-maiden's lips as the loner dared to meet her eyes, speaking her arrogant words of “not getting along” smirking as if she would be the one to have the last word. As if Gyda would stand for such disrespect. She glimpsed at Thuringwethil over her shoulder for the briefest of moments, making eye contact with Heda, her look unspoken yet Gyda knew that Heda would understand. 

“If you ever come near my pack again I will tear your lungs from your body,” The Viking Queen threatened. If she even caught so much as a whiff of her scent it would be enough for Gyda to seek action against her. As it was, the shield-maiden held back as Thuringwethil — a blur of dark fur — lunged past her, towards the woman. Would they both have given chase to her, she would stand little chance. Leave her with something to remember us by, Gyda thought, a flash of the damage she did to the trespasser's leg flashing before her mind's eye for the briefest of moments.

The shield-maiden offered no sympathy towards the loner, and did not deign to call Heda back to her. For all Gyda cared, Thuringwethil could kill the other silver woman and it would have no bearing upon the viking queen.

Gyda watched the loner run away with Thuringwethil on her heels, lucky to escape the ebony Heda's sharp teeth. Very lucky, indeed. A soft snort left Gyda's muzzle as she watched the cowarding women tear off and vanish into the horizon as if the fires of Hel were at her heels — and briefly she could see the Goddess closing in on her though the vision was ended as Thruingwethil turned and came back to Gyda. “I do not know where their ignorance came from but it is clear they needed a reminder of respect.” Gyda concurred with unconcealed disgust in her voice as she turned and with a sassy flick of her tail sashayed back towards the heart of the Dragon, content that they would not be seeing her ever again, lest she had a certain death wish.