Sleeping Dragon of all the things i left behind, i miss my heart the most

not sure where this falls in gyda's timeline sooo i'm just going to be vague. c:

The clouds obscured the moon and the stars, painting the darkened world in the night's firm grasp more grim. The temperature had dropped but Gyda did not mind the further chill. Her fur was thick and coarse, she was clearly equipped for the harsher months of winter, though she found her lack of company little more than lonesome. She had met Krypton — and had enjoyed the Silvertip woman's company even if it had come at the most inconvenient of times for Gyda who now felt guilty that she had wanted to be alone, at first. Alone to grieve a death that she would never cease grieving over. She missed Ragnar so much and had realized that she'd very much taken advantage of the entertained notion that he would always be here just as he'd always been. Alive and scarred and legendary. Ruling with Thistle at his side, with a slew of sons at his feet, all hardened and battle ready ...just as he'd always wanted. 

Reality had not been kind to Gyda, not during her travels with a heavily pregnant and severely afraid Nerian, not with her fight with Ragnar, not with her death match with Vali, and certainly not with what she felt to be the truth: that Ragnar was in Valhalla never to be with the corporeal world again. Even her dreams of him — something she had morbidly hoped would continue if only so that she could see him — had ceased since discovering ...part of the truth. She did not have all of it, not yet, but she would. 

The Scandinavian found herself approaching the base of a mountain, though for what purpose she did not know, only that she was drawn to it. Perhaps because she was tired from her travels, or perhaps it was something else entirely. She sought shelter from the biting wind, cold against the warm leathery texture of her nose and thin fur of her face. A familiar scent nagged at her intrigue, causing her to give pause, though her brow furrowed. She knew the scent, of course, and yet the viking queen could not yet give hope to the fact that it was truly there. Still, Gyda followed it, steps slow and cautious as it led her into the overhang and further slightly into the cave where a shape was huddled against the stone. “Thuringwethil?” The scent told her yes but Gyda sought after the verbal confirmation nevertheless.