Sleeping Dragon live fast die young

She'd been taking it as easy as she's able since she's gotten back from her little trip north. Too much exertion nearly brought her down once she'd gotten to the cave she prefers to sleep in. Her head throbbed and her limp had been prominent but she refused to call for help, curling into a ball and sleeping in the darkest corner she can find. She slept there for the rest of the night and by morning, she's stiffened and it takes a few moments to unfurl herself.

With the pain a dull excuse to slow her down, she stretches in the mouth of the cave. One look up tells her she's wasted most of the morning already, the sun in the sky above her, but she doesn't have much time to dwell. A call reaches her ears and she swivels them forward with a grin on her face.

Thuringwethil's first attempts a steady lope but a few painful steps remind her to slow down. She eases into a pace more suiting of her minor injuries she's put a little too much stress on. She eventually reaches the woman and the sudden tinge of blood on the air raises a tightness in her chest. Grey eyes glance down at the kill as her head sits evenly above her shoulders. No longer are they on neutral grounds and she doesn't resist the urge to make herself look bigger and she squares back her shoulders.

"Maudlin," Thuringwethil all but purrs her greeting, giving her the floor to speak.