Sleeping Dragon Fight me!

Magpie's talent were not physical, unless one counted the arts of seduction and pleasure. It was a side of her that had always been present, though she did not yet understand it or its power. That would come with her first heat, when the teachings of the Corvidae women would be felt primally, rather than known only as mere stories. It was her coming heat that drove Magpie's ambition and desire to begin a family of her own, though she was still unaware of the force of that connection.

She was more suited to logic, words, stamina, speed. It seemed, from her distant observations, that this was at odds with the rest of her pack mates. Her position as advisor would be her only way to ascend, then-- and so she knew she must be careful. Only Thuringwethil knew of her ambition, and if others were to find out, there would be little she could do against a physical challenge. She would need to tread carefully.

As often as Magpie observed her pack mates from afar, to absorb the culture without betraying her ignorance, the Corvidae would take to outriding. It was as important to an advisor to understand the lay of their pack's home, and new sights had always been a delight to the woman. Traversing the borders wasn't particularly stimulating, but it allowed her time to think on what had been learned. To determine her next move.

When another came into view, Magpie stiffened on instinct and breathed in its scent. Male. Pack. It told her enough to know that he was friendly. She offered a chuff in greeting, maintaining a dominant but relaxed posture, internally grateful to have someone to talk to.