The glacier was a stunning sight and not one that Gyda had ever allowed herself to lay eyes upon so up close and personal. If she climbed high enough upon Sleeping Dragon she could see it but seeing it up close was so very different then glimpsing at it far away. It was still breath-taking, still ethereal in it's presence, nevertheless. The shield-maiden turned from it, her tail swaying to and fro once, twice and then a third time as she inhaled deeply and let it out in a heavy exhale. It had been a while since Thuringwethil and her had actually held a conversation with one another — at least since their argument over her desire to have children. Gyda did not broach the subject when they did speak, though she (and she suspected Thurin) had far from forgotten it.

Gyda knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it; but Thuringwethil had thrown a wrench in all of her careful planning. Gyda hadn't been lying when she'd ground out her excuse: she was picky when it would come to the male that would give her children; because of her preferences, because she didn't want attached strings. She had little doubt that the few males in Sleeping Dragon would turn her away if she asked them to sire her children but about the only male she trusted was Hush and ...she didn't feel right asking him to sire her children and then, more or less, forget their existence despite that he would be forced to see them day in and day out.

She did not want it to be messy; but Thurin seemed determined to make the obstacle nearly impossible for Gyda to scale ...or work around, even. Gyda admired Heda for it, no matter how frustrated the Commander made her feel at times, and the viking queen still cared very much for her Heda, unconditionally even, despite that they had hit this ...bump in the road. Her heat season was rapidly approaching, already Gyda could feel the shifts in her mood, the change in her body but she wondered if it would be for nothing. In truth, she had felt worse disappointments, worse emotional wounds in her life and she doubted that this would be the last time.

She glimpsed at Sleeping Dragon's peak in the distance. She would need to return soon, she knew, but for now she enjoyed the small venture outside the territory she had come to call home and the labyrinth of her own thoughts despite how troubling they were. It as she turned away from the distant rise of Sleeping Dragon that she noticed him. He was unfamiliar to her — simply another lone wolf. For a moment, she hesitated, torn between she wished to be friendly or alone with her thoughts. Given the recent elevation in her mood she decided to approach him. Her pace was steady and she stopped while there still remained good distance between them and let out a low chuff of greeting.

The male, Gyda observed as they drew nearer to one another for easier conversing, was tawny, a mixture of colors that reminded her, pleasantly of earth and sand. Not unlike the coloration of her mother and brother, Gunnar. He was larger than her, broad (at least what she could see from the shadows of night and limited light allotted by the moon) — boasting a strong warrior's build that remind her a bit of Thuringwethil's own; but such things were far from uncommon to the shield-maiden who had become quite accustomed to being surrounded by hulking men and women during her time in Odinn's Cove. He offered her a greeting in a language she did not quite recognize, though there was something frustratingly familiar about it. Gyda could not place and therefore knew that it was neither Norse nor the common tongue. “On a bad day I would say yes,” The Viking Queen offered with a simplistic honesty held in the accented tones of her soft voice. Despite that a part of Frostfire Ridge, Qeya River, and Permafrost Hollows (on both directions) lay between the Dragon and the Glacier it was not enough to call it “plenty far away”.

As it was Phoenix Maplewood was too close for Gyda's liking (never mind that the Maplewood had decidedly been there first) but as far as Gyda was still aware the truce still remained between their packs and so long as it was stuck to there was no cause for unnecessary hostility. “but I am feeling generous today, so no, you are not too close to my land.” Spoken with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I am Gyda, Viking Queen of Sleeping Dragon,” As she gave her introduction she gestured with her muzzle in the direction of the looming Dragon visible in the distance. “And who might you be?” She inquired.

Gyda noted his eagerness when she spoke her name to him, studying him once more, trying to deduce if she knew him before. He was not one of her wolves from Odinn's Cove that much she did know. She had known the vikings that inhabited it and it's sister Freyja's Moor very well; and though there might have, perhaps, been a smidgen of familiarity to him she drew no conclusive remembrances of every meeting him prior. He spoke to her in words that she knew, recognized from her frequent visits to Thuringwethil before her ascension to the helm of the Cove (and perhaps Thurin's rise to Heda?) had localized their meetings to being less informal and more business. Dagrun had never agreed with Gyda's fascination with the Heda; but then again her uncle would rather be a lone berserker as opposed to having an ally. His belief had been old and, in Gyda's mind, wrong (but she was a bit biased). It had been her closeness with Heda that had inspired their alliance despite that now she saw no need for alliances with the other and numerous packs of the Teekon Wilds.

“Seageda,” Gyda spoke the name of Thuringwethil's past home aloud and gave a dip of her head in acknowledgment. “It is good to meet you,” The viking queen spoke sincerely. “You are far from home,” Gyda observed. “What brings you to the Teekon Wilds?” She inquired with a small cant of her head.

“You are not the first,” Gyda murmured though his admittance to his reluctance to call Seageda home anymore had not truly required a response from the viking queen. He spoke that he was looking for Thuringwethil and for a moment Gyda hesitated unsure if she should speak to him the truth: that Thuringwethil was with her, leading beside her or not. There had been a reason Thuringwethil had sought to distance herself from whatever remained of Seageda. But if it was trouble he sought he would have to go through Gyda and the warriors that Thurin and her had amassed. She would lead the slumbering dragon's wolves to protect her Heda ...at any cost. “I know where she is,” Gyda spoke, guarded despite the smile she gave him. “May I inquire as to why you seek her?” Perhaps her hesitancy was unnecessary but she was curious and she felt she had a right to protect her Heda even if this male before her posed no threat and had nothing but the best of intentions.

“I see,” Gyda drew when Gavirel explained that Thuringwethil still had wolves that followed her from Seageda. “The decision to what she does with that knowledge is hers,” But Gyda did not see Thuringwethil uprooting what they had built together to return to Seageda. Of course, she could and would not speak for Thuringwethil. “Heda and I have built a home here, the mount in the distance is called Sleeping Dragon. It is where we rule together.” Gyda divulged to him, studying him for his reaction. Gyda knew that Thuringwethil was not accustomed to sharing the helm of the pack. Gyda did not have any problems sharing the responsibilities, and enjoyed having Thurin lead beside her. Even if they did not always agree; but that was expected when you put two women on the thrones. Two strong women with cultures that were different but in their own ways similar.

“I will take her to you if that is what you wish.” The viking queen offered him simply.

Gyda's brows rose in slight surprise when Gavriel spoke that he had two others traveling with him. She supposed if she'd been paying closer attention she might have smelled them upon him but even if she had noticed it was likely that she would have paid no true mind to it since he was a loner. “Two others,” Gyda repeated to herself in a soft murmur. For a moment she was swept up in quiet contemplation, her ears slicking back to rest at half mast atop her skull, her tail giving a soft wag to and fro before her ears cupped forth, alert and the viking queen lifted her muzzle slightly. “Call for them.” Gyda encouraged him, fueled by her own curiosity as to who this stranger was that Thuringwethil would most like to see (all the while wondering if she should maybe be jealous or not).