Duskfire Glacier sorrow by name and sorrow by nature

The male, Gyda observed as they drew nearer to one another for easier conversing, was tawny, a mixture of colors that reminded her, pleasantly of earth and sand. Not unlike the coloration of her mother and brother, Gunnar. He was larger than her, broad (at least what she could see from the shadows of night and limited light allotted by the moon) — boasting a strong warrior's build that remind her a bit of Thuringwethil's own; but such things were far from uncommon to the shield-maiden who had become quite accustomed to being surrounded by hulking men and women during her time in Odinn's Cove. He offered her a greeting in a language she did not quite recognize, though there was something frustratingly familiar about it. Gyda could not place and therefore knew that it was neither Norse nor the common tongue. “On a bad day I would say yes,” The Viking Queen offered with a simplistic honesty held in the accented tones of her soft voice. Despite that a part of Frostfire Ridge, Qeya River, and Permafrost Hollows (on both directions) lay between the Dragon and the Glacier it was not enough to call it “plenty far away”.

As it was Phoenix Maplewood was too close for Gyda's liking (never mind that the Maplewood had decidedly been there first) but as far as Gyda was still aware the truce still remained between their packs and so long as it was stuck to there was no cause for unnecessary hostility. “but I am feeling generous today, so no, you are not too close to my land.” Spoken with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I am Gyda, Viking Queen of Sleeping Dragon,” As she gave her introduction she gestured with her muzzle in the direction of the looming Dragon visible in the distance. “And who might you be?” She inquired.