Sleeping Dragon Joining

Thuringwethil received a lot of negativity when she’d been called to lead her wolves. Most of them had accepted it, as is their way, but some wouldn’t believe the calling. The conclave to determine whether or not the heda’s spirt had chosen her upon the death of the last had come out in favor and, at eight months old, she’d taken over the role easily. Even after her accomplishments and advancing Seageda and the rest of the clans, wolves were still fooled by her age. 

The way the grey wolf in front of Gyda, however, had not gone unnoticed by the dark leader as she approaches the tail end of the exchange. The stranger’s features looked far more set in stone, approaching an age older than either of the leaders of Sleeping Dragon. Heda narrows her eyes as she steps out into the open, head high and tail arched over spine. Thuringwethil stands a few yards back from the smaller leader, watching to see how she’d handle the minute shred of dominance the other held onto. 

Perhaps luck for the beggar Gyda had shown up first.