Sleeping Dragon tonight, the foxes hunt the hounds

Her ears, cupped forward, catch the comment but she does little to show. Her name had been tough growing up, pronouncing it herself and getting others to pronounce it clearly, but the moment she’d be called before her people, it no longer became an issue. She’d simply replaced her name with her title, heda. When some straggler of a lone wolf mimics it, she doesn’t give in to her youthful flashbacks of anger and holds herself steady, giving the other a chance to move on to something more important.

The answer she receives is vague but enough to give Thuringwethil the realization she isn’t going to get much information. Thuringwethil swallows a growl, a low rumble goes unheard, as she resists the urge to control something that is not hers. 

“North east,” she finally says with a raise brow. “I’m traveling. My companion and I are looking to settle somewhere.”

Both Gyda and Thuringwethil grew up on the coast and her heart may be connected but she knows where she’s meant to be. If the mountain she’d taken refuge in the night before is the land of her new home, she’d accept it and lead her wolves once more.

Excuse some of the awkward bits, still trying to work her personality out.