Dragoncrest Cliffs sheidgeda

The first snow had begun to fall in Trigeda, and she knew it was time. It had been mere months since her departure, but the tutelage among her people had been intense, and she was forced to adapt and to learn, with no time to combat the ever-growing sense of powerlessness she felt. Seregryn would one day take the spot at the top — but her time away had taught her to be patient. Others would lord their power over her but, in time, she would succeed. It was the way of things.

When the order came that she was to return to Drageda, to Thuringwethil's side, and to the great mountain home of her future kingdom, Seregryn did so without hesitation. There was no back-talk, no conniving. She accepted the decree — even accepted the presence of her watcher, Atsula, with silence and calm. Together they would make their way. It was the first time in a while that Seregryn had been given the chance to truly lead, as she was Fos Goufa, and she knew the way.

She had not been this powerful since her travels with Gavriel, who at one time had been her guardian as Atsula was now. Then, the girl had tried her best to outsmart the warrior. She had found ways to place herself on top, to escape his watchful eye, to explore and put herself in danger. This time she kept close to her guardian; the snow was deep in some places and the path obscured in others, and Seregryn refused to fail because of the damnable weather. If anything was going to stop her, it would be the teeth of an enemy — perhaps Gyda, or her awful children.

A burning passion had rooted itself within Seregryn when the pair departed from Trigeda — she fixated upon the image of Gyda in her mind, this other, and wondered often if she still reigned alongside Thuringwethil. In any case, she would not be there for much longer. The pair journeyed for the bulk of the month, watching as winter took its hold on the territories in passing, and when Seregryn found the first marks of Drageda upon the earth, she cast her head back and called for @Thuringwethil. But, after hearing no response for some time and being met by not a soul, Seregryn realized that something had changed.

They were not here.

The wolves — her people — her heda — it was almost too much for the girl to accept.

Had they been overthrown? She skirted the borders, studying scents and checking old haunts; by the time she returned to Atsula's side, she looked positively livid. Something had happened. She had missed her chance to prove her worth, and to overthrow the outsiders that had contaminated Thuringwethil's reign. So, with some goading from Atsula, they had to move on.

There were scents, and paths, and so they picked one and they moved. Further and further the pair went, until they were too exhausted. Seregryn pushed them on until ready to buckle, unafraid of the dangers that winter's descent would present to them. And then, as the forest thinned and the air became rank with the scent of salt, Seregryn pulled her head back again and called out: My heda, where are you?

It felt as though she had donned new skin. Emaleth had outgrown the confidence she had worn within her den site, and as she grew it had become tighter and more stifling— she hadn't realized it, and still didn't, but her devotion to Deirdre had held her from her potential. She had moved from protector to shadow, and she had lost herself in the between places of Donnelaith. As her sister's voice grew, hers had grown softer. But here on the cliffs! It had been mere hours, but the yearling felt born anew— untethered by the grief of her childhood, reveling in the freedom of carrying no burden on shoulders too young for them. Emaleth felt a pang of guilt at that, but swiftly willed it away— Deirdre had chosen that life for herself, and it had been unfair of the pale witch to thrust it also upon her that they might share in the suffering.

How easily she had forgotten that once, she had desired no less.

She moved along the borders, pausing to mark them with her urine and scrape her teeth and fur against a jutting bush or tree. But Emaleth could not be everywhere at once, and she was distressed to find that another had come dangerously close to their threshold. Tail held high, her posture proud, the Mayfair summoned the proudness of her heritage and approached the strange woman— she did not recognize her, and though she wouldn't recognize many of her pack mates at this point, Emaleth did notice the lack of wolf-scent upon the stranger.

"This land is claimed," she told the other firmly, mirroring the words Wildfire had spoken to her earlier that day. Her own wolf-scent was weak, but there would be traces of the Bandrona and commander that still lingered there. She had told Thuringwethil that she would protect this territory with her life, and she felt and eagerness to prove it— inexperience though she may be, there was only one way to learn.

Skipping Atsula with permission & pp-ing a little.

It was not the heda which intercepted them. While the girl did not expect the leader to meet them on her own, whatever had befallen the group, Seregryn was disheartened when she caught sight of the dark figure and its raised tail. The fur along her spine trembled. Seregryn looked to her guardian swiftly, as if to make a wordless command that she stay put, and stay silent. As the Fos Goufa, she was in control. This stranger would be dealt with accordingly.

Seregryn turned a sharp eye upon the stranger — the pupils were slightly dilated, giving her an eager and dangerous expression, like a cat that just can't wait to tear the wing off of a bird. She stalked closer, slowly, deliberately, as if to test the boundary that had been found and the patience of the wolf just beyond. The wind pulled at her fur softly, as if to pluck each snowflake off of her with care, until Seregryn shook out her shoulders and leveled her confident gaze upon Emaleth's own.

She stopped walking, and breathed deeply of the salted air. It took effort not to let her snout curl. Thuringwethil was here, she was sure of it — but who was this? Another outsider trying to prove themselves? Seregryn snorted, feeling the tension of her presence, and finally responded: Yu laik in ai way, trikova. Her tail lashed behind her once, smacking her hocks and dusting across the snow. She knew Atsula watched on, but did not care. It was high time Seregryn returned to her place here, even if they had abandoned their mountain.

To be stopped by some foreigner did wonders for her temper.

In her eagerness to reprimand someone who was— to her— the outsider, Emaleth had not seen the other concealed just behind. As the dark woman moved, her gait relaxed and almost predatory, to reveal her companion... that was when the yearling faltered, pausing in her approach. But she steeled and straightened herself as the other drew closer, spitting out words in a language she didn't understand— You in like way?— her eyes narrowed slightly at that. As a wolf fluent in several languages, Emaleth knew all too well the arrogance in the act of speaking in a language you knew the other did not understand.

And so she said, scathingly, "Soith sotalach."

"These lands are claimed," she repeated slowly, as if the other were dense. "What is your business here, outsider?" Wildfire had given her a chance despite her mistake, and she would extend the courtesy to this one— though she seemed to have little respect for the laws that bound all wolves. Emaleth was not prepared for a fight and knew it, and she would not win two-against-one even if she had more experience. After a moment of consideration, and without waiting for the other to respond, the yearling lifted her head to loose short warning barks to the rest of the pack.

She did not know what was said to her, but the way in which is was spoken made Seregryn's ire grow tenfold; then, when the stranger switched back to the language of warriors, things really got heated. It was one thing to be denied entry by a foreigner — it was another thing entirely to be labeled as an outsider by someone such as this.

If Atsula tried to stop her, she did not notice. Seregryn heard that singular word and something tipped in her mind. Her lip twitched subtly, and her fur spiked all over. The time among the wolves of Trigeda had been peaceful for the most part, filled with lessons on diplomacy and politics, with some attention to her skills in battle — but Seregryn threw out all of that. She gathered up all of her shit and tossed it out of her mind when her anger took full hold of her.

The fos goufa did not think, she only reacted. This stranger did not look fit to be a warrior to begin with, she was soft and plush like a well groomed doll, and she was young, as Seregryn was. There was no chance in the warrior-girl's mind that Emaleth would win in a battle against her -- so she lunged, hard and fast. But she was caught by surprise when the guard tossed back her head and called out to her pack. She faltered for a split-second before plunging ahead with her teeth shining, aiming for some part of the true outsider, intent on making her power known.

Emaleth would move, whether she wished to or not.

PP with permission!

Thuringwethil spends most of her time in the forest the lines the coast. It is not terribly impressive but a few miles wide and several in length. It is enough to block their core, their hougeda, but in the days of trying to claim their new home, their presence is required more at attention on the surface than anywhere else. When Emaleth barks her alarm, Thuringwethil isn’t terribly are, and she hits the ground running as she weaves through the wall trees. What is likely a few minutes feels like hours but by the time she comes upon her newest companion with teeth lunged in her direction, Thuringwethil’s feet thunder the soil beneath her.

Seregrýn isn’t able to do much damage, if any, by the time Heda lunges for the woman. A snarl of deafening applause is her only announcement as she rips the fos goufa back by the scruff and to the ground. The woman does not yet acknowledge the guard who may have been attempting to diffuse the situation but hadn’t been quick enough. When the child is on the ground, Thuringwethil’s jaws tighten in warning but she drops the wolf while a growl still rumbles in her throat.

“Set daun.”

She swallowed, looking every bit the nervous pup as the slightly older she-wolf came bearing down upon her— playing at guardian had shifted from a romantic game to a terrifying reality in a mere instant. Emaleth was nothing if not proud and though every nerve in her body screamed that she was making the biggest mistake of her life, the yearling stood her ground. Naivety meant she tensed her muscles in preparation for the blow that was sure to come, inviting a worse injury than if she had simply relaxed and allowed her body to bend smoothly with the impact. As the other closed the gap between them, the young she-wolf held her breath and closed her eyes, waiting for teeth to rend her flesh.

Emaleth flinched as a snarl broke the tense silence, expecting to feel fire tearing open her shoulder with the sound, but instead there was only a gust of wind. With it, the commander's scent. Her mismatched eyes opened wide to see Thuringwethil pull her attacker back by the scruff as she might a naughty pup— set daun.

She was unfamiliar with the language but could guess at the meaning. Though the commander did not speak to her, the Mayfair was a loss for what else to do and so obeyed. She sat down hard on the ground as she released her breath, her expression a mix of bewilderment and satisfaction for the outcome.

It wasn't going to hurt - much. Seregryn desired some bloodshed and she was intent on getting what she wanted. But she had no intention of taking the girl's life, or even harming her too badly. Just enough. Just a taste, to prove her strength and remove an obstacle. There was no time to think once she dove towards the girl's dark silhouette.

And then there was a roar. A familiar voice — a grip held across the fos goufa's scruff — and she was thrown in to the dirt, a stain upon the snow. If her anger had been a burning pyre before, now it became an inferno.

She bared her teeth and droned a low note, a dangerous sound prefacing a sudden lurch as she tried to stand; but of course, Thuringwethil would be there. Whether she was shoved down again or not, Seregryn did come to her senses when the fog of her rage began to clear. The scent and sight of her heda was enough to placate her for the time being.

Seregryn remained silent, but between glaring at the snow in front of her face and shooting Emaleth dangerous facial expressions, it was clear that she wanted to finish the job.

Thuringwethil’s gaze locks with the fos goufa until she settles and makes no further move to pick herself up again. Her chest heaves for breath of the sharp, cold air but eventually she takes the moment to stand back. It is the first time Heda has to process the last several seconds and she swings her head to Emaleth whom had taken a seat in the snow. Her brows knit together in brief confusion but she is one piece and doesn’t note an injury, at least not one that needs immediate attention.

She has not sent anyone to Trigeda to retrieve Seregrýn and with their recent turmoil finds a low level of frustration in the decision. It has been some time since she’d seen the girl and knows little of her progress. The entire purpose of sending her back had been for training but now she isn’t so sure she’d learned anything. Thuringwethil shoots a glare toward Atsula but she does not address her, biting back the words in light of the last several days.

“Hakom yu hir?” she asks as she draws away from the guard to Seregrýn.

When Thuringwethil turned to face her, Emaleth shifted her position to sit a bit straighter and lift her head slightly higher— perhaps waiting for praise over the good job she had done in guarding the borders. But the commander merely looked confused before returning her attention to the interloper. The young recruit could sense the tension and frustration laced within the leader's posture, and she falsely attributed it to the fact that there was a stranger that had crossed into their freshly claimed lands. At least until the Heda spoke once more, this time more obviously to Emaleth's attacker.

"She's trespassing," seemed like an unhelpful answer to Thuringwethil's crudely asked question, given the situation they all found themselves in, and so the yearling opted to stay silent despite her confusion. If a loner were to attack one of the pack, shouldn't the pack retaliate or at least chase them off?

Seregryn panted heavily, perhaps only to let the heat of her rage billow out of her like smoke; perhaps so she could bare her teeth without repercussion. The question hung in the air without answer. She waited to see if the guard would say anything, but there was no response, so it had to come from her.

Oddly, the girl relaxed. Her ears folded atop her head, slicking back. Her tail stopped its lashing and lay flat upon the ground. And finally, when she had cooled her temper enough, she spoke.

Ai was told kom bak. Osir lok op gon yu, gon de kru... Osir soujon led osir hir, en ai tag gon yu, ai kwin. She flicked her nose and eyes towards Atsula, who can easily confirm the story. Whether Thuringwethil accepts it or not is another matter. Seregryn does not press the issue - but she does redirect back to the dark girl sitting silently behind the heda, like the nervous child she apparently is. Disha... Disha komba raun.

It was clear by the flare in her scruff and manner of speaking that Seregryn had a low opinion of the guard.

Seregrýn does not pick herself up and Thuringwethil finds a great joy. She never expected the girl's spirit to break during her training and it does not surprise her to find out she'd been correct. She doesn't doubt Trigeda's ability to mentor the woman for when her death comes but perhaps there is only so much they can do. Besides, Seregrýn's rightful place is here in Drageda. If she needs to continue, if for the Fos Goufa's sake, she will, but their timing does not come eye to eye.

"Much has changed," she says, no less harsh than before but allows the slip of tongue for Emaleth's benefit. "But you do not come back to me and attack my wolves. Du yu git klin?" Thuringwethil bares her teeth should her words not meet their mark. The guard accompanying the Fos Goufa moves and Thuringwethil dismisses her of her duty a moment later. A few days rest and a meal or two and the woman will return to Trigeda.

If looks could kill, the dark attacker would have been dead for the piercing gaze that Emaleth set upon her. It was deliberate, the yearling was certain, that she spoke in that same foreign language-- knowing that Emaleth could not understand it, and could so say anything without allowing the Mayfair to defend herself. The commander, at least, had a shred of decency and slipped into using the common tongue.

It still didn't seem right to say anything, and so she remained still until Thuringwethil asked something of her. But there was no mistaking the smug expression on her face as she observed the exchange between the two before her.

It was frustrating to return only to be treated exactly the same as before. Seregryn was no child. She had not been one for some time, by Trigeda standards at least, and certainly did not perceive herself as one. Yet she was being scolded by the heda in much the same manner as a parent might correct a child. Seregryn's tail lashed at her hocks but she was silent a moment, and then turned her gaze away from both wolves present — deferring to the more dominant woman with a slight bow of her head.

Sha. As the girl answers, she crawls towards Thuringwethil and with a reach of her snout, plants as series of swift licks to her  aunt's chin. Then she stands tall, shakes the situation off of her shoulders, and the plush layers of her coat dance briefly across her body. She doesn't look to Emaleth again. It doesn't matter. But she does feel the guard's eyes boring in to her flesh, and the hairs on her shoulders stand up like quills.

Chit gon maun? She asks of Thuringwethil, diverting the topic — and cutting the guard out of the equation completely. Seregryn knew of the move because of her investigations, and she knew that the Dragon had rumbled beneath her paws; yet still she was curious. What had made the heda move to the coast? Mo Seageda? A second chance, perhaps?

A rumble grows within her chest as Seregrýn gets closer with the appropriate submission. There have been some changes but perhaps what is left is something only she can do, but knows she won’t be able to turn her back on the girl for a while. Thuringwethil eventually jerks her nose for the fos goufa to stand and regain her footing once more. She doesn’t go as far to push her to apologize to Emaleth but she shoots her a thankful look anyway to dismiss her if she didn’t wish to stand there anymore. Whether or not she does, Thuringwethil does go back to the other to explain.

“The mountain did not want us there anymore. It is not safe. We’ve settled here,” she explains, pulling her nose so that Seregrýn can follow and Emaleth if she so wished. “Drageda,” she then reminds her before looking through the trees. The air is salt and there is a faint roar in the distance. “It is like Seageda.”

Gonna fade here if that's ok.

Drageda. It sounded powerful — and appropriate — considering that one day it would be Seregryn's kingdom. She does not speak, but nods to signify her understanding of this knowledge which Thuringwethil has passed to her. And as they walk together, back to wherever the heart of the territory rested, Seregryn is silent and seemingly thoughtful. She is mulling over her next move, but cannot stop repeating that name within her mind: Drageda. Drageda. Drageda.