Sleeping Dragon i have watched holy men immolate on the banks of Nile

Thread 1 of 2. Thread 2 will be stared once I get home from work. This is mandatory for those going along. This will only require one reply. Everyone will meet up to the north in the next thread. Please reply as quickly as possible! @Dio @Wildfire @Rebekka @Freyja @Hush @Portia @Tanja @Chessur @Hvitserk @Eske @Seff

Each morning, Thuringwethil finds herself drawn to the geyser field. Most of the time, she sticks near the rendezvous site but the activity of the field has changed even since she’d been back. She tries to recall the day before the supermoon, if the geysers had been this active at the time, but the memory hadn’t been important enough to store away. Now, she knows what to look for and the dragon has been less than welcoming as they approach the winter. Snow covers most of the ground in certain parts of their claim and surrounding territories but there are patches where the ground is too warm. It had been that way earlier in the year, at the end of winter, but not this as much as she’s discovered.

The geyser field, as expected, has erupted in more than half of those active. Her jaw tightens and she turns her head to see a puff of smoke overhead high upon the mountain. Her ears drop against her head, angling her nose upward to release an urgent song to call her wolves to her.

Before she finishes, the ground moves beneath her. It nearly throws her off her feet but her howl ends abruptly and a wave of panic tears through her chest. This is something that’s wrong. The elk from the first time had been nothing more than their last meal before the ground grew tired of their presence. Thuringwethil howls a second time, more urgent and with more direction: leave and reconvene to the north. In that moment, she doesn’t know exactly where she’s going but her feet will lead her. She rushes back toward the territory to find the rest of her wolves before it is too late, ushering them out to safety. Doing her best not to worry about those she cannot find, she reminds herself they are all capable and intelligent enough to know what to do in their time of need and she will see them on the other side.

Ever since the commander's return, Wildfire had felt on edge. It was a relief to have Thuringwethil back home, of course, but the Bandrona couldn't stop worrying about her mate's omen: "I think something bad is going to happen." They were both restless, she noted, as if waiting for a hammer to fall. Yet the December days drifted past uneventfully like the snow that floated softly through the air and blanketed the ground, announcing the official arrival of winter.

When Wildfire awoke around dawn, Thuringwethil was missing from their cave. But this was not particularly unusual, especially these past few days, so the Bandrona did her best to swallow her anxiety. She emerged from the den and began hunting for breakfast, hoping that she and her mate could convene over a warm meal. The trapper became so consumed in her hunt that she entirely forgot about the recent foreboding atmosphere.

Then the smell of smoke tickled her nostrils, throwing her off her game. Wildfire stopped and glanced upward, brows knitted, when the earth began to tremble. She had slept through the previous earthquake, so this sensation was entirely new to her. It triggered her fight-or-flight response and she attempted to bolt, only to lose her footing and fall, once more scuffing her scabbed elbows. She grunted and decided to cling to the earth until the rumbling passed, her eyes squeezing shut. Somewhere in there, she heard her mate's abortive cry and a jolt of fear speared through her.

When she was finally able to climb back to her feet, her legs felt jellylike and she stumbled a few times when she began running again. Wildfire immediately galloped toward the source of the Heda's howl, spurred on by a second and yet more urgent message. Thuringwethil commanded her wolves to flee to the north. The yearling obediently corrected her course. By the time she arrived at the place where the rest gave way to the forested hollow due north of Sleeping Dragon, she was breathless not only from exertion and fear but also the raw realization that they would not be going back.

Portia had not been nearly as worried about the territory as Thuringwethil had been-- which is sad considering her calling as a naturalist. no matter though, because concerned or not it had to same effect on them both. the Skayona was gathering herbs, or trying to considering the season, when the ground was practically ripped from her feet. she was agile and genuinely very well balanced, but Portia was small and light-weight, very easily brought down. she hit the ground with a sickening crack, or pop, she couldn't hear over the sound of the mountain shaking in anger. 

she could barely hear her Heda's howl, and she tried to howl back but her voice was quite possibly drowned out by the quakes-- she couldn't tell. Portia needed to leave where she was, she knew this, but each time she moved to stand her legs were yanked from underneath her, and even if she managed to stand her left leg was completely useless, and each time she fell it only hurt more. frustrated and now terrified, tears welled in her eyes as continued to struggle to move anywhere. "i-i can't," she stammered, "i can't." 

she eventually resorted to a crawl, still toppling onto her sides often. she felt completely and utterly useless right now-- and the pain didn't help-- but she did at least drag herself closer to the north side of the territory. 

Hush had been wary of the mountain since its first rumbling, staying far far away from its peak, remaining at its foot. It was colder there, but he would rather be cold than dropped into the Dragon's belly. He had no reason why the Dragon was no longer Sleeping, other than, perhaps, the presence of the huge moon. He was no spiritual wolf, had no religion or creed, but something about that day changed everything in ways he could not explain, and in ways no one else could explain.

Heda had gone and come back, to his confusion. He could not ask, but he figured that she was alright now; there was no fuss made over her. Life, he supposed, went back to normal. Until today.

The mountain, the Dragon, rumbled and roared again. He was not on its slopes, but he still felt it. The mute squeaked, realizing with fear that the rest of them were still up there, still vulnerable to the Dragon's firey breath. He heard Heda's howl and ran to her, belting out his bark-cough-howl as much as he could, telling her that he was here, he was alive, he could help. He worried for the pups.

As he ran, he saw Portia, the healer. There was something wrong with her, something wrong with her leg. He ran to her, nudging her gently, urging her to move, move, move. He could be her crutch if she needed it, but she needed to get away.

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Eske is a sound sleeper.

The rock of earth beneath her is enough to wake even the dead and (luckily) she awoke, startled and disoriented. At first, groggy from sleep still she did not register the danger she was in and this time Gyda did not come to rouse her. Gyda and Gavriel were far away. Safe. Another tremor lurches the earth beneath her, the roar of the dragon mighty, the choke of ash and smoke filling her black, leathery nostrils. Wide eyed she scrambled out of the den before it could collapse in on her. Though she was not clear of danger she eyed the volcano with terror in her eyes, and horror freezing her blood in her veins. She remembered the nonchalance, the jokes she made of the plume of ash and smoke that the dragon and spewed forth during the supermoon. It was a warning, she realized now.

Heda's call was barely caught over the roar of the beast in the belly of the earth as it rumbled and writhed, ready to break free of it's rock prison. A part of her was stubborn, stupid. She did not want to leave. This place was her home. She, too, was a dragon; but if she did not flee she would not live to see another dawn and she had too much life to live. This was not something she could fight and thus she deferred to her flight instincts, willing her legs frozen with shock and fear to move; and once she began to run she had no desire to stop until she joined her Heda, or met up with them in the North.

Eske did not spare a look back. They were not returning. She had the inkling as she pushed herself out of the territories' borders that there wouldn't be anything worth returning to. Besides, back was not the way she was going.

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PP permission granted!

The smoke had hit her well before the tremble from underpaw. She had woken to it, blinking slowly as she attempted to comprehend just what the smell was and where it was coming from. Soon enough, her eyes fell to the den entrance and she frowned to this, knowing that the smell of smoke was never a good thing. Despite these initial foreboding thoughts she was still intrigued. She removed herself from Seff’s side at once and pulled herself into the open. She did not have much time to collect herself once she stood outside because it was as she attempted to track down where the scent was coming from, the earth began to quake.

Though she had survived the last time this had happened, Freyja instantly recognized that the shaking was far worse than it had been before. Something landed heavily in the pit of her belly in that moment as fear momentarily paralyzed her. She recovered from her own panic  as she was knocked off of her feet and landed pitifully on her side. Her eyes went skyward for the first time since she had left the den and a brand new wave of terror overcame her as she caught sight of the smoke looming from the Dragon’s mouth.

“S-Seff!” she called desperately as she scrambled to regain her footing, finding it rather difficult to do so with how fiercely the ground moved. When she did get onto her paws, Seff was before her. Though he was healing well, Freyja was not that confident in his being able to travel. Though his neck looked to be healing just fine, the silver-haired woman found herself worrying over his well being. But, despite these thoughts, Freyja knew it was their time to go. The dragon was no longer welcoming there and they would die if they stayed any longer. Though Freyja had no idea just what all of this meant, she inferred that it was not in the pack’s favor.

“We’ve got to leave. Now. And we have to find Hvitserk.” In her panic, the call from the Heda went unheard and instead she found herself needed to seek out Hvitserk. Her eyes jutted about the frenzy and soon enough she found herself finding her brother who was not too far off. A single pang of relief, a needed interruption from the sheer terror that had overcome her, occured at this and she called over to him desperately over the roar, “Hvitserk, we have to go.”

Stiff legged, Freyja began to lead the trio westward-- down the mountain and as far away as she could. Was was energized by her sense of flight, finding herself not even stopping to consider the rest of her pack in that moment and instead lead the two men she loved the most further from the dangers of the mountain.

The smoke was what woke him, blearily he blinked and inhaled softly the strangeness. Freyja beside him shifted, pulling from the den, and after a moment he rose to follow her, concern waking him quickly, a primordial instinct instilling worry in him, the scent of smoke something instinctively bad. 

Beneath his paws the ground suddenly shifted and groaned, as if some beast awoken from its slumber. His eyes grew wide with shock, though he did not panic, instead rushing to her as she cried out, moving beside her, wordlessly voicing his concern through a glance alone, allowing her to lean on him need be, though his own legs were made unsteady by the quaking of the earth.

"Freyja!"

a call, by the Heda for her pack, reached his ears, though it was numbly that he heard it, to unsettled was he to locate it. None the less, the ground in it's anger was as sure a sign as any. He would not follow them. His place was not with them, nor was it with Larksong, nor with Blackfeather. Thus when Freyja spoke once more, he nodded in quick agreement. His gaze settled in the clearest path he could think of in a moment of rising fear for the ground that rebelled against itself, and the smoke that rose in a column from the mountain. west. 

And soon on they were moving, pace s ground eating lope he could sustain for hours if need by, steadily at the side of Freyja as she led ever west, simply away from the beast that had once been a home.

He'd been on edge for a myriad of reasons, and as it would seem, constantly finding more. The smell of smoke had already sent his patrol off-kilter and before he knew it, he'd set right to looking for Portia's trail when he couldn't focus on anything else; not with his nose full of that burning. Hearing the commander's howl and the very earth rumbling underfoot (and plenty worse than last time) was all proof, so he moved on faster and faster.

There were slips and then there would be bruises but with each one, he hauled himself up, out, and onward. When a struggling note of Portia's just barely caught his ear, he had to keep going. That just told him better where he needed to go on his inevitable way out.

So he got there quickly, probably arriving on their immediate scene in too much of a rush -- a flurry of flustered golden fur, nostrils flared and full of smoke. He didn't like the rush of his heart, but seeing Portia came as some relief now that he knew what needed done. Hush was already there and Dio regarded the mute with an appreciative rumble on his way to moving opposite him next to the healer. "Come on," he rumbled while fighting off the urge to whine as he nudged his muzzle against her shoulder; he couldn't see how badly she was hurt, but he'd carry her out of here if he had to. We have to go. He pleaded silently to the mountain to just give them enough time.

He shot Hush another pointed look, knowing that they could do this, and he was glad to have them all together. While he had a second, he flung his muzzle skyward to howl purposefully to their commander, informing her that he and Hush were with Portia. He had no other information to share, but was quick to urge them all on their way before the shaking could escalate again, and the smoke threaten to choke them out.

mag and alisha u can both pp him helping however he needs to be/etc etc

The smoke had not awoken the young Viking, his eyes having already been opened and his mind alive. He’d been watching the sky, lost in thought until the smoke had started to irritate his nose. Scrunching it up, he’d pointed his muzzle towards the mountain’s top and watched it, curious to see what was going on. And then when the earth shook beneath his feet, he’d been dragged down into the dirt, eyes wide and mouth parted to make way for a yelp. Panicked, he’d tried to push himself back up to his feet, but slipped several times and fell right back down. Only after he’d calmed down a bit had he managed to stand up, but that had only taken care of one issue. Immediately after he’d found himself on even ground, his thoughts rushed to Freyja. His worries left him oblivious to Heda’s call, legs carrying him over the land carefully as he sought his sister.

Hvitserk’s ears had remained pinned against his head until he’d located his sister, who had seemed to of been searching for him, too. Not a second was wasted before he’d rushed over to her, nodding and then following her lead. He’d glanced towards the other boy once or twice but otherwise kept his gaze glued to Freyja. The home into which they’d been born was no more, the mountain’s anger having driven the life from it. A pang of sorrow struck his heart, but it hadn’t stuck around for very long. Hvit knew that, no matter where he went or what happened, he’d always find himself at home if Freyja was there with him. Thus, he’d followed her to wherever she might lead them, thinking not about the others.

For a moment the world stood still and then in the next beat it let it's roar be heard from all corners of the earth. The ground shook just as it did on that frightening night, and just like then fear struck through Tanja to the point where he was unable to move. He desperately clung to the ground in hopes he wouldn't lose his balance and as soon as the earth became quiet and Heda's howl reached his ears, the man ran as quickly north as he could. Whatever had caused the shaking whether it be gods or some other force, Tanja knew they stood no chance against the beastly mountain.

He had heard Heda's call as well as a few others that he could vaguely pick up, but some voices were not heard and the man feared for their safety. It was his duty to protect them from harm but what good was the title of Gona if he couldn't even protect his pack from their own home? Angered and fueled by rage Tanja lifted his head and called out to see if anyone needed help but continued running north while doing so. He would turn around if needed but for now his main focus remained on getting away from this deadly place. After all he would be no use to them if he was dead.