Sleeping Dragon Joining

Her paws striking the ground like lightning, the other wolf eventually gets the point and begins her run. Thuringwethil sweeps up behind her as they take the decline off into the valley below. She keeps the pursuit for only a few seconds, slowing down with one last bark to see the other off. Her last few steps are hard, thudding into the ground and watching the trail of silver disappear from her vision. Her chest heaves, smoke billowing in her face, and she lolls her tongue out the side of her mouth when she swings her head around to look for Gyda.

The queen stands back near the starting line and she makes a half circle to come back around. Thuringwethil turns her head over her shoulder when she’s high enough on an incline, happy to see no trace of the idiotic female. 

With her slow climb, by the time she reaches Gyda, her breathing has returned to normal and she continues past a few steps. The rage of interaction boils beneath her skin, simmering quietly while her frustrations grate against one another. “The wolves of these lands,” she begins, “they’re something else.”