Though thoughts of her Tezcacoatl rarely ceased, pining to see her son again in the only way a mother could, Quetzalcoatl had not lingered far from the northern breaches that she had entered these savage lands from. It was not fear that kept her in a relative area, for she feared nothing except losing her son — though her women might disagree with her there was nothing more precious to her, not her own life; and she had always spoke that if they had daughters (or sons) then they might understand. She may have never been meant to love Tezcacoatl as he'd been meant for a slave as soon as his sex had been discovered but her heart would not let her. She would not see his beautiful chocolate fur ruined by the daily expectations of those lesser and indefinitely lower than them, would not wish to see his face, so handsome even when he'd been naught but a suckling newborn disfigured by the scars that the slaves bore to mark them and to remind them. Quetzalcoatl had never thought of herself as a weak women, did not grow up in a culture nor a pack where women were the weak ones, but her love for her son was her largest weakness; and yet she indulged herself to believe it was also her strongest asset.

Still, she lingered, hesitant to venture further south though the urge struck her on numerous occasions to investigate these lands that her son must have called a temporary home. She was curious as to what drew Tezcacoatl here, and what gravitated him to stay when his throne was awaiting him. She had allowed him to leave a boy so that, guided in the right direction by the women whom she had entrusted his life with, her best and most loyal, he might return to Coatl's Rise a man, ready to lead the Amazon pack into a new era. The moment she had kept him for herself, selfish but with nothing short of fierce love, brazenly bestowing him with a 'Coatl' name Quetzalcoatl knew that she had changed all the rules — but it had never felt wrong. She was unsure if Xiuhcoatl would send word of any type by messenger, but Quetzalcoatl doubted it. Her sister, only a Princess except in the times of war when they shared the title of Queen, one playing diplomat and the other playing strategist knew what she was doing and the Amazon Queen did not worry too much in her absence; especially now that she had Vali, the king of the Viking pack Odinn's Cove directly under her paw right where she had wanted him all along.

The youngest of Eitri's children was the most easily swayed, romanced easily by false promises of power and a little femme charm. There had been talk, Quetzalcoatl had heard before she had left, that his brother, Ragnar, the middle son — Eitri's only son that was actually a true danger to her and her women, she had always believed — ruled here in these lands. It occurred her to pay the once handsome Northman a visit. As a young girl she had been charmed by him, though he was younger than she by a few months, but she had been naive and innocent, boldly wondering about the opposite and lesser sex. No one knew of those secret meetings, and no one but the Viking and her would ever know what had transpired during them. Those were secrets that Amazon Queen intended to take to her grave. She had been a little girl, foolish and he had offered a distraction from the never ending lessons of her strict mother.

In time, she would pay him a visit, as any good Queen would do. He had once been her a friend, and then her greatest enemy. What he was to her now, she did not know. He was too far away from her Rise to be neither enemy nor friend which was not, she acknowledged as she ceased her steps near the small cache she had begun to build for herself near her den, temporary though it all was within the Emberwood, and begun to dig the loosely packed earth in search of what she had caught the night before to serve as her breakfast so that she could spend the day exploring.

The sound of footfalls was heard even over the steady drip of melting snow, tell tale in the sopping wet bracken that squelched under foot. Quetzalcoatl recognized Manauia immediately as the Huntress broke through the shadows of the trees, nearing her. The Huntress' body went into immediate submission, though for the time being Quetzalcoatl was busy attempting to identify her scent, familiar though foreign to her. Tezcacoatl's scent was mixed upon Manauia's own enough to let the Queen know that the Huntress was still with her son but the absence of the other Guardwomen's scents did not fail to escape Quetzalcoatl's notice.

“Manauia, my dear Huntress,” Quetzalcoatl returned the woman's greeting softly, peaceable and calm despite that there was a war of emotions raging through her. Worry, confusion and a smattering of anger all in one. Still, Quetzalcoal was a Queen and royalty did not lose their heads in an uncontrolled fit. She had learned from the very best after all, for though Quetzalcoatl's own mother had no patience for men nor insubordination, primarly, she had unnerving patience in almost all else. These lessons were strict and undeniably harsh but useful, Quetzalcoatl saw now though she could not see it as a child. “What has become of your sisters?” Though she was burning to inquire about Tezcacoatl, hungry for even a small tidbit of information on her son there were other, more pressing matters. Tezcacoatl, for the moment, was safe Quetzalcoatl assumed but she worried for the missing Guard. She might have been suffering disappointment that her elite had not managed to stay together, nor accomplish the task she had required of them but her concern was much more pressing.

Which brought Quetzalcoatl to her next set of questions, though part of her was unsure if she truly wished to know the truth. “I have met a girl from the pack whose scent you and Tezcacoatl wear, Duskfire Glacier, I believe she called it,” Quetzalcoatl studied Manauia for a moment before continuing, “She claims that she knows no Tezcacoatl but that a male who looks exactly like me calls himself Týrr, do you know why this is?” Quetzalcoatl was trying to keep her royal calm but it was beginning to slip in her desperation for answers, and the despair that her son was not calling himself even “Tezca” despite that it was his favored nickname as a small child. The Serpent King, was he being true to his namesake, choosing cunning like the serpent or was there something else going on here? She didn't know. All she knew was that something didn't feel right.

“She has also told me there is a woman, one that Tezcacoatl is fiercely loyal and fond of. She was not able to tell me more, but you know my son more than she does. Who is this woman?” Quetzalcoatl demanded, unable to help the familiar thought that if it was the fondness that she anticipated (for what else would bind Tezcacoatl's loyalty so fiercely?) then she would have to do something. No one but an amazon woman was acceptable for Tezcacoatl. Once upon a time, Amoxtli and Tezcacoatl had been close, which was namely why the Queen had made her the head of the guard (though not the only reason), hoping to sow the seeds of that relationship, though Quetzalcoatl could see now that it had not been meant to be.