Sleeping Dragon you have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story

Life with the Dragon Clan upon the sleeping dragon's slopes was not easy, but Snacha didn't think it ever would be. So far they'd claimed their land, hunted an elk, and feasted upon its meat. Then, with its leftovers, they'd filled their first caches. Snacha was never far from Thuringwethil's side, though sometimes she did wander far enough to give the heda a sense of herself. The girl wasn't one to think of her own-self, but of the commander's self. It was during such a moment of distance that Thuringwethil sought her out to train.

Snacha turned and swept into a nod of deference, ears splayed back and head level with her shoulders. She was second in name only, not in the eyes of the others, and she would have to prove her worth here. "Aye, heda. What shall we train in today?" Snacha shifted her body to be in a more neutral stance, which allowed her body more fluid movement if the commander sprang at her instead of giving her time to prepare. Her mother taught her to always be prepared.