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

Thuringwethil had been the sole commander of her wolves that followed her. Leading side by side with another would be a test, putting her trust in the woman on trial, but she can’t think of another she trusted more. Seageda turned belly up, what little trust she had left were nothing but blood dripping from her fangs that night. If anything, Gyda had been a constance in her growth, even if infrequent at times, and she’d learned much from the woman.

“Stavanger Bay is your fathers,” she reminds her. 

They needed a fresh start, something that is their own for their cultures to merge. Their similarities would shine, wolves would die for them, and their differences would give them rebuilding and growth. 

“It has been days since I’ve come across another claimed land, let us explore,” she tells her, though the urgency is not locked in her voice. She doesn’t know about the pack to the south west of where they stand but she’s enjoyed the quietness she’s come into these territories. It is several hours before day breaks. Even with things they needed to do, if it were just them, they could not accomplish much. “There is a forest north of here and this mountain wouldn’t be too unfamiliar for me,” she muses.