The girl had grown considerably in the past months. She was beginning to take the shape that she would when she had reached full adulthood. The rich cinnamons had faded somewhat from her pelt, but the startling silver of her underside was as beautiful and dazzling as ever. Her top coat was cloaked in a dusty and pale brown. Still, flecks of the butterscotch coloring seemed to dapple her back and shoulders. Her eyes had shifted from the startling baby blue into a soft and light champagne coloration. The chaser of the storm was a peculiar contrast to her siblings. Freyja had taken the shape and coloring of their mother, where their brother and other sister were the yin and yang of the group. They did not look to belong to the same family.  
 
Thyri moved like a spectral ghost around the geysers of the pack. Her head was placed lower toward the earth and her pale gaze traveled along the plums of steam that rose from the ground. The fur along her neck and shoulders stood rigidly against the cold breeze that had infiltrated their lands. The breath of winter was upon them and it would not be long for the first snow to fall – the first snow of the young girl's life.  

 
The scent of Freyja did not hit the girl. She kept to her route and sniffed at the earth. The ground was stiff and rigid from the chill of the morning air. Thyri's pads ached with the cold that they had never experience before. If she had known that her sister trailed further behind, there would have been a greater attempt at making the tracking more difficult. Instead of this, the stormchaser drew her skull upward and peered forward with squinted eyes. The steam from the geysers filled the air with an abnormal heat against the chilly air. She was grateful for the reprieve from the bite of autumn. If she dared to get closer to the steam, she feared that it would have a far more severe nip than the cold on the air, so she trailed around the pools with careful steps and tested the heat with a swish of her tail.  
 
There was a sputtering noise that sounded behind her, and the girl turned her head toward the noise with furrowed brows. Her muzzle crinkled with the wind as it carried the familiarity of her family, but Freyja was too far behind for Thyri to notate which sibling was in the vicinity. Instead of taking the opportunity to explore further, she took an immediate right and began headed toward the thick and jagged rocks of their territory. If she could lure the shadow to the boulders, the dragon imagined she might have more of a chance to see who was wandering about the geysers.  

Had she known the tracker to be Freyja, young Thyri would have made a greater effort to escape the wandering hunter. She was no fool; while she truly believed herself to be stronger and more suitable a dragon than the slate-coated sibling, the storm chaser did not wish to push against the presence of the princess. Instead, she thought it best to keep to herself.
 
Where Freyja thought her a mean-spirited pariah, Thyri believed her actions to be necessary and a valid part of growing into a true dragon born. Their last meeting had set the tone for the adults they were destined to become, and while it was almost unfair to base such an assumption on the actions of children… it was how she was beginning to think.
 
Trekking higher, the stormy child found herself a perch and watched with a keen set of pale brown eyes. The chilling winds tousled her pelt and she shivered against it. In spite of the frigid air, she found herself exhilarated as she awaited her follower.