Silver Moraine chain hits my chest

The green-eyed wolf relaxes a little more and when she speaks, Thuringwethil’s head nods slowly. She’d spent a lot of her time on her own before crossing paths with an old friend, giving her some semblance of what she used to be. Even if Sleeping Dragon isn’t filled with wolves of her culture, it is enough—and her spirit satisfied—to continue her reign. The loneliness felt in her travels, especially when she rarely went more than a few hours alone back home, had begun to eaten away at her.

“You’ll find two options if you keep going the way you’re going,” she informs, glancing back the way she’d come from. “Unless you go toward the sea; there I don’t know what you’ll find.” Thuringwethil’s head spun back around, realizing how little she knew of Phoenix Maplewood should the other ask, though her intentions to direct the dark woman toward them are nonexistent.