Qeya River Those who are about to die will say anything.

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She’d chosen the spot high on the mountain, overlooking a rocky descent that leaves a sinking feeling in your chest when standing on the edge. She can see over the valley and, on the tip of her horizon, the river. It offers a barrier against the maplewood wolves and she’s yet to see any of them even dare to get close. Whether her own has gone below, she’s unsure, but since she’s spent time watching the world that belongs to her, she’s yet to see anyone cross it. 

From where she stands, looking at her mountain in the distance, she cannot see the spot she’s chosen as her own. A place that looks so insignificant from where she wants, a completely alternate feeling so far away. 

Thuringwethil holds onto it, turning her head and talking to the bank. Even if Sleeping Dragon cannot cross the river, they still benefit from it. Goliath hunts the fish that swim in the portions not yet frozen for the winter, filling their caches and the dark leader still drinks. Her attention is taken away once she’s lifts her head and cleans the cool water with her tongue. Heda arches her tail quickly over her spine, moving away from the frozen bank to give her feet something steadier to stand on.