Sleeping Dragon been half goddess, half hell

The thing Thuringwethil wants to stop the most is the spinning; the pain in her shoulder she can deal with, especially if she doesn’t move it, but the spinning is making her stomach churn. She lowers her head, resting it on her paws, and even closes her eyes while Lucani works at the puddle and breaking it open. She doesn’t hear this—she barely hears the words to stay awake—and so she slowly opens her eyes and watches the tawny wolf dip her paw in the cold water.

The young woman watches her as she moves but she doesn’t expect the sudden cold water on her wounds. The distance she feels in her mind is brought back full force, feeling a pull in her lips as she snarls at the sudden sensation. Thuringwethil can’t bring her head around fast enough to force the water away, quickly dizzied by too fast of a spin, and she closes her eyes. Her head lands heavily on the ground, grinding her teeth to steady herself.

“I don’t know,” she manages to say but she isn’t exactly sure of the question until a moment later, focusing on breathing through the pain amplified by her confusion. “No,” she decides as she tries to recollect the last few hours. The cougar had spoken to her, enough to be lucid, but the extent of his problems were unknown. He had attacked her out of no where but Thuringwethil knew the beasts were brutal for no reason at all.