Whitebark Stream every hurricane gets its name from a girl like this

The dark leader nods her head. She’d do the same, informing the wolves back on the mountain of the agreement and Gyda upon her return. She silently hopes Gyda makes a swift pass by the pack on her way back, unsure of the direction she’d really be coming from. Her scent will not be of Sleeping Dragon anymore but that doesn’t mean she won’t make mention, letting her intentions known without knowing what she could be getting into. 

She can’t ask for much more than what Reek has laid out and she nods her head. They would keep their distance and, without offering the same threat in return, they would not come near Sleeping Dragon without reason. A neutral relationship between the nearest pack is the most she can currently hope for. A chance for them to solidify their claim before opinions were made about each other. 

Whether or not their relationship blossomed to anything in particular, Thuringwethil had been used to a certain understanding between the warriors she commanded and the wolves in neighboring clans. They had their own leaders they answered to but the heda commanded them all. 

“I am to return,” she tells the other leader, pivoting back a step to speak over her shoulder, “have a good evening, Reek.”

Thuringwethil moves away, returning the way she’d come. The tracks led away from the stream up into her territory are not forgotten. She will search for them later in the proposed direction they’d gone and lead her wolves to their first hunt.