The Sentinels all change

Dante relayed that they'd heard nothing of Ragnar's death. In her heart Gyda had considered the thought that perhaps they did to be too good to be true and it turned out she was right. His death was still a mystery to her and would be, she knew, until she spoke with Thistle Cloud. She could not put off reconciling with her mother — providing there was any reconciling to be done — and in her heart she did not wish too. She had amends to make. “An alliance,” Gyda repeated with a slight snort of mirthless amusement. Of course any traces of what Ragnar had built were gone. Charon was not Ragnar; would never be Ragnar, the fact that Dante spoke of an offered alliance was all the proof of that Gyda needed. She didn't say it aloud but she instantly disapproved even without giving Charon any sort of chance. She did not know the circumstances of his rise to power but she didn't like it even without knowing anything. “My father held to the belief that alliances were nothing but false pretenses. He said that in the end packs will always look out for themselves.” Though Odinn's Cove had taken Freyja's Moor under it's wing as they were sister packs and there had been a friendship between Thurin and herself. 

“I had considered reclaiming my father's Bay,” Gyda was honest, at the very least. “but instead decided to let sleeping dogs lay and claim further north,” She inhaled deeply and let it out. “I am here to ask a small favor of you and your wolves. My father is buried in the heart of the Bay, beneath the tallest ash tree. His grave is well kept and easily identified. I only seek that you please ask your wolves to not disturb it.” Perhaps she had no right but she asked it anyway, and she didn't think it too complicated or outlandish of a request to make; because the ramifications of what she would do if she found it defiled would be as if from the wrath of Hel herself. This was not specific but to any wolf who would ruin her father's resting place.