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

Maungeda?

Thuringwethil’s nose tips back upward as the word crosses her ears. It had crossed her mind when taking the mountain but the volcano’s name remained. However, Drageda remains on the tip of her thoughts for the familiarity of home, encompassing her new world and old.

“Azgeda,” she growls, rocking forward into a step as a sudden flash of anger crosses in front of her. The icy home had been difficult to communicate with, north east of her own home, and their brutal ways were harder to wrangle into a coalition. It had fallen short and Thuringwethil hadn’t forgotten, slaying the last Azhoum ambassador when she left her home. “Thuringwethil kom Drageda.”

She tightens her jaws, taking another step to close the distance. Not showing up for the summit had put new tensions between her home and the icy nation, tucked away once Seageda had been dissolved. Why an ice-wolf had come so far south west, she’s uncertain, but she remains steady at the new threat nearby. 

“kom Seageda.”