Sleeping Dragon burning the letters that might have redeemed you

Sorry for the delay!

He’s on his feet in a matter of seconds and Thuringwethil’s tension eases a few degrees. She’s given a quick answer, as well, and she’s able to allow herself to relax even more. Gyda wouldn’t have brought the wolf if he’d been a threat and in return, heda nods her own head. Grey eyes search his figure, unable to see the span of his neck for scars that might have been explanation preventing his speech. 

Questions linger on the tip of her tongue but all with answers already obvious or answered by Gyda earlier. She wants to ask them again, a compulsion to put the wolf through her own inspection since he doesn’t look like much. Thuringwethil stops herself, exhaling a long breath she’d been unaware of, and looks past the smaller canine.

“Do you have a name?” she asks, turning her attention back to him. It’s one thing Gyda had been unable to produce, whether or not she’d asked. She doesn’t expect much of an answer, or a way for him to tell her. She’s not the guessing game type. “Or I can give you one,” she offers. The wolf that can’t speak isn’t exactly how she’d like to refer to the canine.