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

“There is no one else I would rather have beside me,” Gyda admitted. She had seen Thuringwethil lead her wolves, just as the other had seen Gyda lead (even if Gyda had implored the help of her half uncle). Admitting that she did not know everything hadn't been a bad thing, Gyda had reasoned, knowing her strengths and weaknesses would only help her become the leader she aspired to be. A leader like Ragnar had been. Gyda had never considered two women leading together as co-alpha's ...at least not until this very moment but she couldn't say that she was not fond of the idea. In her culture men and women were, generally, equals. She knew this to be different for Thuringwethil but Gyda did not particularly see this as being trouble. Nerian had told her that women made better rulers, for her pack consisted of nearly all women, though they were peaceful and not at all fighters. Nuns, or Monks. Gyda could not recall the correct word for it, though she assumed it was something along the lines of those words. The Gods smile on brave women, and for once Gyda felt the power of that statement. 

Naturally, the two women had their work cut out for them but in honesty Gyda wouldn't have it any other way. Joining a pack ...even the one her mother had joined and being anything less than the Queen she had become hadn't really been much of an option for the Scandinavian. “There is much to be done then,” Despite that Gyda knew Thuringwethil did not need a reminder. Mostly, she spoke it aloud simply to help her organize her thoughts which seemed to be jumping into some mass chaos of everything they needed to get together before they could begin recruiting to their cause. “We will need a place for our new home, I would suggest Stavanger Bay but...,” She gave pause to inhale deeply and let it out in a sigh. “A pack has claimed a forest that touches it's southern reaches, while this would not normally prick my hesitancy,” For Gyda could be as ruthless as the Vikings were known to be. “I smell mother's milk and what I assume to be the scents of babes carried upon the scents of their borders. As much as I want that land my maternal instincts will not allow me to bring war to them.” Not with the babes. She couldn't do it and she felt weak for it; though Gyda had yet to learn that her maternal instincts were anything but weak.