Sleeping Dragon chosen paths

A sudden breath from the mountainous terrain saw all manners of debris redistributed with the wind. In an instant the dragon was aroused as looser snowfall was mustered towards its head in a whooshing churn. Watching until the items became indiscernible toward the summit Scythia encountered the oddest sensation of familiarity. As it often occurs the recollection was not correlated until mention was made of a completely unrelated topic. Through a series of associated thoughts the female eventually found herself with memories of her mother reciting the war between Spartacus and Marcus Crassus. From her telling of events the frontline between the Thracian and the Roman had been similar to the threshold on which they stood. Thinking on whether or not she should share the remembered tale Scythia’s eyes wandered innocently towards the sentry. There was a chapter in which the former gladiator and his rioters overtook several watchmen and, she imagined that the obsidian creature would appreciate hearing of their violent end.

It was a rascally thought that caused her to smile but not as much as when she noticed a certain change to the woman’s stature. Mistaking the insinuations of her dominance for an answer to her earlier teasing Scythia took great pleasure in the notion that she had caused such an effect on the otherwise taciturn wolf. Riding on this inconsequential win she addressed the silvered administrator with a honeyed tone. “I would deny you nothing if you saw fit to have me Domina.” Turning back her ears so that she might at least appear demure, her tail quivered gaily behind her. “However before I lavish all of creation upon you –I would like to know how else I might address you and the name of this place.”