Permafrost Hollows my bones do not taste of crown and silver

When she expects to be alone, the sound of another comes from behind her and she turns to see her dark guest following along. Thuringwethil slows to a stop, curving enough to see her intent, before she begins her slow pace back in the direction she’d originally been going. The quiet company of her companion is enough to ease whatever tension in the back of her mind about being alone and enough to distract her while she sorts through the concerns floating around.

They do not share a word yet when her attention is broken to the other side to find Warbone approaching. He stops several feet away and, once more, her leisure trot does the same. “Warbone,” she addresses as he speaks her title. He seems softer in the moonlight but she shakes her gaze away to glance back at her companion, wondering how comfortable she’d gotten into Drageda in the last day or so. The knowledge that they’d crossed paths once before is lost on the commander.

“This is Sangilak,” she introduces, looking back to her warrior. She’d made a call when she returned with the duo but they’d taken time to rest their travel weary legs once they’d gone over the conditions of their stay. “She and her companion are guests of Drageda.”