Sleeping Dragon live fast die young

Magpie's own posture remained dignified and relaxed, but her tail hung lowly and her head and ears bowed in respect. It spoke of confidence, but deference. Bright eyes swept coyly over the yearling as the dark woman directed her gaze elsewhere; she had no wish to challenge the commander, but instead claim her place as advisor. Thuringwethil's stuff movements did not go unnoticed, and had Magpie been a different wolf, she might have assumed it was merely the display of dominance. She sensed injury, but made no move to speak until she was invited.

She had forgotten that she had shared with Thuringwethil her true name, and as it fell from the commander's jaws, the Corvidae felt something she couldn't quite place. "Commander," Magpie responded evenly, as if they were already working with one another. "A gift for you," she continued, indicating the hare that lay between them. Beyond that, she remained silent, the limits of her pride already reached; it was clear why she was here, and directly asking for admittance seemed too much like begging.